Leaders VS Kings: Frostgate
by Leda Star
Summary: History is written by those who win. A lesson Jon Snow, and the rest of Westeros is about to learn. This fiction is completely finished, new chapters will be added every Sunday.
1. The Boy Lost In The Snow

Summary: Instead of simply knocking Jon out Craster tries to kill him prompting a series of events that will forever change Westeros.

Disclaimer: Game Of Thrones is the property of George RR Martin.

This fiction is completely finished, new chapters will be added every Friday.

Chapter One

The Boy Lost In The Snow

Jon knew that Craster was going to kill him. One or two blows would glance off his chest or legs, but the majority of them would land on his head; his dark curls becoming soaked with blood.

"Father, I hope you can forgive me for dying like this." He thought, his body going limp and waiting for the next blow that would surely be the last.

Agreeing with this, Craster raised the club over and behind his head, but when he brought it back down his wrist was seized in a pale grip.

"Wh-what are you doing?" The wildling gasped, the white walker shoving him aside in reply.

Even though his vision was blurry Jon could see that this walker was different from the one that took the baby: It was tall, but not skeletal, and garbed in plate armor that blended with the shifting shadows. The Snow knew he should have been afraid as it bent down to peer closely at his face, but he was too far gone to feel anything but pain.

"Let it end." He croaked, a droplet of blood landing on the Other's cheek.

The ice demon swiped it off and sucked the finger into its mouth, a grating sound filling the air as it rolled the taste about its tongue.

"Is it going to eat me?" Jon wondered. "Please let it kill me first."

Having come to some sort of conclusion, the Other scooped Jon's body up into its arms.

"What are you going to do with with him?" He heard Craster ask as the creature started carrying Jon away.

If it answered Jon didn't know, for the darkness creeping about his vision finally grew too thick and he passed out.

When he next awoke he was in a cave with the pelt of an animal, still holding the metallic scent of blood, cushioning his body against the stone floor. When Jon made to pull his cloak-which was draped over him like a blanket-tighter to his body he noticed that his wrist were bound by cuffs made of glowing frost. The one who put them there was sitting at Jon's side, watching him with glowing blue eyes that rested on a face so beautiful it made him want to weep.

"What do you want?" Jon croaked.

Instead of answering him the Other reached down and picked up a bundle of rags. When the bundle started squirming Jon realized it was Craster's son, and snatched it from the creatures proffered hands.

"Shush, it's okay." He hushed, hugging the baby tight to his body. There was no fire in the cave, just a mound of crystals that gave off a soft blue light but no heat; three, more skeletal, looking Others sitting around it watching Jon as intently as the fourth. Jon meant to stay awake, in case they tried to attack, but the throbbing in his head forced him back to sleep.

When he awoke again the baby was still in his arms, but the cave ceiling had been replaced by a tent, and yet another pelt was draped over his body.

"Where are the people who owned this tent?" Jon questioned, noting the clothes that looked like they could fit a small child. Again the fourth Other didn't answer, but he-it was too bulky to be female-crawled cover with a bowl filled with a blue, snow like, substance. "What is that?"

The Other furrowed his brow, and scooped a bit of the snow onto a slender finger. Making sure Jon was watching, he smeared the snow on a jagged scar marring his outer arm; the blue snow seeping into the cut and leaving a pale line on the flesh.

"Are you going to use that on my head?" Jon questioned, touching a weeping scar at his temple.

The Other moved the finger away, and smeared the salve on the wound, Jon gritting his teeth at the freezing burn that followed. He had passed out by the time the salve was applied to the fourth cut.

This time Craster's son was being held by one of the skeleton Others, who cradled him in one arm while the other steered his undead mount.

"Where are we going?" Jon asked, seeing nothing but blinding white snow for miles around.

The Other holding him in the saddle said something, that might have been soothing, but sounded like breaking ice to Jon's ears.

Jon came to three more times during the journey, and he thought for sure that he wouldn't awake for a fourth time. The Others were moving further and further North where it was so cold that Jon doubted a fire could warm him even if the creatures allowed him to light one.

"The baby will freeze to death." He tried to reason. "I will freeze to death."

The fourth Other shook his head, and left the shelter, returning about a half hour later with a bowl of half frozen jerky and a blanket that looked like it had been stitched out of different articles of clothing. Jon would tell himself that he took them off of dead bodies he'd found in the snow. However Jon did wake up for a fourth time, and he found the baby alive as well...although he wasn't sure if he would stay that way.

"What are you doing?" Jon gasped, the fourth Other holding him down when he tried to stand up. Not too far away was an altar of ice where a Other robed in black stood holding Craster's son. He had the same physique as the fourth, but with a far more demonic appearance; a row of white horns making a crown on the top of his head. For a moment the baby fussed and wriggled-so used to Jon's tight embrace-but went eerily quiet after the demon Other put a finger upon his cheek. "Y-you killed him! Why would you bother doing your best to keep him alive if you just planned to kill him?!"

The fourth Other tried to shush him, but Jon had already drew the demon's attention; a crackled command prompting two skelton Others to drag him to the alter. Jon struggled as they laid him upon the altar, but he was too weak from scarce rations and his throbbing head.

"No, don't! Please, don't!" He begged, the demon Other seizing his head in between his cold palms. The sky above him was choked by dark clouds, and a ghostly green light that swirled about them like a sewing needle. The musing made him think of the time Sansa had helped him mend a tear in his breeches which in turned led him to memories of his other siblings. "I'm sorry,I'm so sorry!"

The demon Other frowned, and looked back at the fourth who shrugged and tapped his own head. The demon shrugged and turned back to Jon, squeezing his head until they locked eyes with his. Like blue stars, they were, and seemed to pull Jon in like a fish on a lure. Slowly his struggles to get free ceased, and the cold fear was replaced by pure cold; his veins turning to ice, and his breath feeling more like frost than actual air.

Once again Jon passed out, but not before he felt the strange cold filling his eyes.

[You said you wanted another child.]

There was a loud slap.

[THAT IS NOT A CHILD, THORVALD!] A woman shrieked. [He looks old enough to have a mate and children of his own. The Council could have had your head for bringing him here!]

[But they didn't.] Thorvald argued earning him another slap. [He's special, Tola, the fact that he survived the transformation is proof.]

[How do you even know he made it?] Tola argued. [His brain had started drowning in its own blood when you brought him here, and he could have died during the ritual and simply be another wight!]

[Wights don't have beating hearts.] Thorvald reminded. [And they certainly don't have the sense to pretend to be asleep either.]

Jon's eyes snapped open before he could stop them. He was laying on a palette of furs in the corner of a room that would be like one found on a wealthy homestead if not for the fact that the walls, floor, ceiling, and furniture were made out of solid ice.

[Good to see you awake, young one.] Thorvald grinned.

With a start Jon realized that he was the fourth Other who had saved him from Craster; wearing silk like robes of black and blue. To his left sat a another male Other who looked to be around ten, and on his right stood a female Other cradling a baby in her arms.

[H-how can I understand-] Jon clapped a hand over his mouth as the forgiven words flowed off his tongue.

At the table Thorvald gave Tola a smug look, and turned to the boy.

[Alrik, go tell the Council that your cousin is awake, and I will be bringing him down to meet them.]

[Yes, uncle.] Alrik nodded, hopping off the chair and rushing out the room.

[Cousin? Why did you call me that? And how in the seven hells can I understand and speak your language!?]

The yell proved too distressing for the baby who let out a bleating cry.

[I'll go settle Erda down, and find the boy some clothes.] Tola sighed. [I expect you to explain what is going on by the time I get back.]

[Yes, my love.] Thorvald sighed, leaning up to kiss both his wife and child as they walked out the room. He then rose and walked over to Jon, a chair rising out of the ice floor.

[How did you do that,?] Jon gaped.

[With this.] Thorvald replied, tapping his temple. [We Skrothians have the ability to manipulate ice with our will. It is a bit of a trial but something you will get good at with practice.]

Jon frowned. [I will? But how? I'm human.]

Thorvald let out a heavy sigh. [Before I begin, can you please tell me your name?]

Jon hesitated before he told him: [I am called Jon Snow of Winterfell.]

[It is nice to meat you, Jon. I am Thorvald, son of Alti, captain of the Frostgate guard. The city where you are currently in.] He added at Jon's confused look.

[Why did you bring me?]

[Because you would have died if you had stayed completely human.] Thorvald held up a hand when Jon made to speak. [One of the gifts of our people is the ability to change the members of other races into ours, however we can only do so to babies and very young children.]

[How come?] Jon inquired, sitting up.

[Well,my mother once said it was because their blood was thin whereas older children and adults have blood so thick that they die before our magic can finish transforming them.]

[Then how come I am still alive? I just turned eight and ten.]

Thorvald rolled his eyes. [Just so you know, you won't be considered an adult until you are eight and one hundred, and as to why you survived.]-The Skrothian shrugged.-[There is something in your blood Jon-what it is I do not know-, but whatever it is it not only allowed you to go through the transformation but come out with half of your humanity intact. Something that our kind has never seen before.]

[But why? Why did you bother bringing me here in the first place?] Jon clarifyed.

Thorvald's face became lined with sorrow, his hand clutching an opal pendant around his neck. [I lost my elder brother, Ulfar, two years ago. We were doing battle with the humans in the mountains and accidentally triggered an avalanche. His wife, Maeva, was so heartbroken by the lost that she took her own life leaving Tola and I to raise their son, Alrik.]

[I am sorry for your loss...recently I lost my father.]

[How?]

Jon's hands clenched the bed furs.

[He found out that the queen of our country had conceived our princes and princess with her own twin brother. When he tried to reveal this fact they had him executed as a traitor, and took my two half sisters hostage.]

Thorvald placed a comforting hand on Jon's shoulders, the flesh not as frigid as he remembered.

[To lose a loved one is to finally know true pain, and could be even worse knowing that they were lost for no reason at all.] He grimly remarked. [Despite what your people have told of us, the Skrothians are not completely impervious to cold. The Council has foretold of yet another century long winter, and we will perish if we do not get south before this summer comes to an end.]

Jon's head jerked up, thinking about the cold and ice he had journeyed through. [That is what your summers are like?]

[I know it might seem harsh in your eyes,] Thorvald chuckled. [But true winter can get so cold that Skrothians have been known to freeze to death beneath the sweep of a single breeze.]

[That's horrible.] Jon recoiled.

[It is beyond horrible, which is why we have to get south. Usually the cities and settlements we have beyond the Wall are sufficient, but in the past decade our population has grown so massive that only the lands the opposite side of it will be able to support us until spring comes again.]

[Which is why you have been increasing your attacks.] Jon summarized.

Thorvald nodded. [Many say that the scars the humans and Skrothians have dealt each other has created a wall too thick to ever pass, but I do not think that is true. I believe that the largest of barriers is the fact that the humans can not speak our tongue, and are too fearful of us to take the time to learn.]

[Which is where I come in.]

Again Thorvald nodded. [Even the oldest of human children we have transformed have been too Skrothian in their look, but you don't have that problem. You can translate between our two races; be the bridge that connects us.]

[But that doesn't mean that we will be able to make peace.] Jon argued, raking his fingers through his hair. [Just getting near the Lord Commander without him trying to kill me would be a miracle!]

[I know that, but it is a risk we must take.] He stared into Jon's eyes. [As we speak a battalion of soldiers are preparing to march on your comrades stationed in the mountains. They have been ordered to kill them all, and turn them into wights.]

[They can't!] Jon gasped. [My friends are at the Fist, th-they don't deserve to die, none of them do!]

[I know that, which is why I need your help to convince the council to try for peace.] Thorvald explained. [They are the oldest members of our race, and many of them are as set in their ways as the mountains are set in the earth.]

Jon frowned. [Then I don't see how I can help. Bastards are not known to have moved many mountains.]

Thorvald gave him a pitying look. [It breaks my heart to see how small the world has taught you to see yourself. The fact that you are here talking to me is proof of the wonders you can do!]

[But that doesn't mean I can do them!] Jon insisted. [I can try to convince the Council and the Night's Watch to make peace, but that doesn't mean I will succeed in doing so.]

[And I am not that foolish, nor that cruel, to expect you to succeed.] Thorvald confessed. [But I am begging you on behalf of my wife, daughter, and all those whom I have loved and lost to try at least once.]

Jon worried his bottom lip. [But what if they say no?]

[Then countless innocents, from both of our races, will perish either by the sword or by winter's cruel grasp.] Thorvald replied frankly. [However, the same thing will happen if you do not ask at all.]

Jon threw up his hand in exasperation. [Then why should I ask!?]

[Because there is a chance that they will say yes.]

Alrik stood in the doorway, twisting the hem of his tunic.

[Uncle Thorvald feels guilty that he wasn't able to stop my mother and father from leaving this world, but I will never be able to hate him because I know he tried his best to save them...and I won't be able to hate you either, Jon, even if the Council and your Night's Watch does say no.]

Jon's heart stopped in his chest. In that moment he did not see a beautiful ice fey, but Sansa. He had heard tales that his half-sister had begged, with all her heart and soul, for someone to save their father. For someone to stop a sadistic monster from murdering a single man. Now Jon found himself being asked by two creatures-who his people swore were even greater monsters-to at least try to help save not only their race, but his race as well.

[...I will never know for certain , but I have a strong feeling that my father would want me to try as well.]

[Do you not like the clothes, Jon?]

Jon shook his head. [No. In fact I think they are very nice.]

Besides being good human-hunting-mounts, ice spiders were also able to produce a silk that was as soft as snow, but strong as steel. Tola had given Jon a long sleeved undershirt the color of frost with a midnight blue jerkin that had bell sleeves and silver embroidery, with white trousers, and grey boots that went up to the knee.

[Then how come you are frowning?] Tola inquired.

Jon let out a sigh. [Because I look so different.]

Of course Jon still looked like himself, but it was as if an artist had come and chiseled out the imperfections in his face, and balanced out his features. His skin was a shade away from white, and his hair had darkened to true black as well as grew out so that it fell below his shoulder blades; the length perfect for hiding the pointed tips of his ears. Since he was only half Skrothian his eyes were not a glowing blue, but the grey did fade into a light cobalt around the edges.

Tola rolled her eyes and started twisting the top layer of Jon's hair in a fishnet braid.

[You look beautiful, Jon, both human and Skrothian women will be fighting for a chance to be your mate.]

Jon blushed, but was kept from ducking his head by Tola's weaving fingers.

[Can you tell me more about the Council? Who is their leader?]

[Technically they rule as equals, but Vethorn usually holds the most weight in their decisions. He is also the one who conducted your transformation.] She added, plucking a crystal bead from a bowl to thread on the juncture where the strands crossed. [Which came as a big shock to everyone since he hates humans with a passion, especially members of the Night's Watch.]

[How come?] Jon gulped.

Tola shrugged. [Word has it that a member killed his mate, but it is really just a rumor.]

She finished off the net into a single fishtail, and marked it amongst the waves of loose curls with a clasp of curled, silver, wire.

[I suggest you get used to Tola playing with your hair,] Thorvald smirked, when Jon walked back into the main room. [She is obsessed with braids.]

That explained the intricate plates in Thorvald's, Alrik's, and even baby Erda's hair.

[Put this on, Jon.] Tola said, handing him a cloak made from the pelt of a snow bear. [There was a minor collapse in the eastern tunnel that has let in the worse of drafts.]

Jon frowned as he clipped the cloak about his shoulders. [Tunnel?]

Instead of explaining, Thorvald ushered Jon outside where he could get a look at their city.

[Seven hells!]

Frostgate wasn't only massive-stretching for miles around-, but built entirely underground; a large crystal hanging from the soaring ceiling acting in place of the sun and bathing the city in a pale blue light. Columns of mile-wide ice acted as both support beams and housing to the Skrothians who moved about them using bridges, and cage elevators that rose and descended with no help from winches or cables. Thorvald's and Tola's residence was located on ground level, and opened up into a bustling marketplace. Like a human one, the market was filled with stalls and shops offering everything from food to arms with the only exception being the material they were made from and the people who purchased them. Stopping by a food cart, Thorvald purchased a bag of ,what looked like, dark blue plums covered in swirls of frost.

[You eat it like this, Jon.] Alrik explained, peeling back the skin and popping a light blue wedge into his mouth.

Jon did the same for his fruite, and nearly swooned after taking a bite.

[Wh-what is this?] He asked in awe.

[Glacier berry.] Thorvald answered, steadying him on his feet. [I didn't know you would find it this sweet.]

To say the berry was sweet would be like calling a thunderstorm a sunshower!

[Where do you grow them?] Jon inquired, popping another wedge into his mouth.

[In a cavern a mile from this one.] Tola answered.

Jon frowned. [They don't need sunlight?]

[They don't require as much sunlight as the human crops do.] Thorvald corrected, pointing up at the crystal. [The light diamonds are part of a chain that reflects sunlight from the surface down to the city, and we have bred our crops to thrive on that supply. We even have plants that need only a cup of water to grow, although they taste is pretty bland.]

[Better than nothing.] Jon mused, starting on a second glacier berry as they entered a lift.

[The Council hall, please.] Tola requested.

The elevator attendant nodded and placed his hand on the wall, the cage rising as blue light pulsed out of his hand. Jon's question was stopped when he noticed a large group of skeletal Skrothians assembling in a raised courtyard.

[Why do those Skrothians look different from you?]

[Because they have decided to be Shepherds.] Thorvald sighed. [The magic used to create and control wights is one that takes a great toll on the users so it is usually criminals, or those who have brought shame to their family, who become Shepherds as opposed to being executed or banished.]

[So they are the Skrothian version of the Night's Watch?]

Tola nodded. [However instead of swearing away the warmth of a mate, or the joy of children, the Shepherds give up their free will, and exist only to obey the will of those who command them.]

A shiver went up Jon's spine that had nothing to do with the cold. After rising the length of five broken towers, the elevator stopped on the end of a bridge that led to a castle consisting of jagged shards of ice. The castle had no walls or gates, but the steps leading up to the front door was blocked by an angry crowd of Skrothians.

[What are you doing, Glenre?] Thorvald scowled.

[Stoping you from disgracing our race further by bringing that boy before the council!] The leader said, jabbing a finger at Jon. [He is unworthy to even stand in this courtyard!]

The words brought back an old pain that burned like fire in Jon's heart.

[How dare you speak in such a way, Glenre!] Tola barked. [Two of your five children were begotten from the transformation, and your eldest son married such a woman mere days ago!]

[My kin are full blooded Skrothians.] Glenre growled. [That abomination still has fire in his blood, and should either be sent away or killed!]

When the crowd cheered in agreement, Thorvald pulled out his sword.

[That "abomination" is now my son,] He snarled, leveling his crystal blade at the man. [And I will gut you where you stand if you even try to touch him!]

Before Glenre could draw his own blade they were stopped by a booming: [Enough!]

At the top of the steps stood Vethorn, looking like a king or malevolent god.

[Come boy,] He ordered, crooking a finger at Jon. [The rest of the Council has been waiting for you since your transformation.]

Jon was suddenly assaulted by nerves, and he glanced up at Thorvald.

[You will be fine, Jon.] He promised. [You of our people now, and the Council shall not harm you.]

Glenre scoffed, but shrunk when Vethorn shot him a pointed glare. Nodding, Jon took a deep breath and walked up the steps, the Skrothians parting in his wake.

"You have to try." He reminded himself, as he stepped through the doorway . "For the sake of those you care about north and south of the Wall."


	2. The Things You Learn Everyday

**Disclaimer:** Game Of Thrones is the property of George RR Martin.

 **This fiction is completely finished, new chapters will be added every Sunday.**

Chapter Two

 _The Things You Learn Everyday_

The doors did not swing shut behind him, but merged into a seamless hall with a wave of Vethron's hand.

[This way.] The councilmen motioned. [There is no time for dallying.]

[Of course.] Jon nodded, trying to keep a clipped pace, but finding it difficult not to slow down and take in the Hall's beauty. Chandeliers of white and blue light diamonds dotted the length of the arched ceiling, and the walls were lined by statues so detailed they looked like they could move; the two larger ones guarding the Council's chamber actually did, pulling open the doors as they approached

[There you are, Vethron. I was starting to fear that true winter would arrive before you and the boy did.] A Council member yawned. She was one of three females seated at a crescent shaped table that was on a platform raised at least ten feet off the ground.

Jon was just starting to wonder how Vethron was going to reach the table, since he didn't see any steps, when a set raised up out of the floor beneath his feet; the high table splitting so that he could sit down in a chair in the center.

[Glenre was pitching a fit over the boy's presence here,] He explained. [I imagine he will not be happy when he hears of the attempt to make peace with the humans.]

[You are willing to let me try?] Jon gasped, yelping when a chair suddenly rose up beneath him, and kept growing until he was eye level with the council. [I-I didn't even know you were aware of Thorvald's wishes for peace.]

The same female councilmember rolled her eyes. [Such a matter is impossible to remain secret in our lands for long. Especially when its holder is as open hearted as your foster-father.]

[A little too open hearted, if you ask me.] A man to her side sniffed. [Who is to say that the boy won't betray us to the Night's Watch?]

[That is what we are to ensure.] Vethron acknowledged before Jon could. turning to look at him. [I assume that Thorvald has already explained the….interesting circumstances of your transformation?]

Jon nodded. [There is something in my blood that allowed me to survive through the ritual, despite my age, but prevents me from becoming fully Skrothian.]

[Tis not a permanent condition,] Another woman interjected. [Although strong, the element in your blood will not be able to hold against the force of our combined magic.]

[So you wish to make me fully Skrothian?] Jon inquired, his nails biting into the armrest of the chairs.

[Not without cause.] Vethron clarified. [We understand that you are the bastard son of the former Lord of the North?]

[I am, and my half-brother is the new King of the North.] Jon added, silently wondering how such information reached this far.

[And you think that this will allow you a better chance to make peace?] Another councilmen guessed.

Jon shrugged. [Robb is my best friend. I am sure he will at least listen to what I have to say.]

Vethron arched a brow. [Are you sure? You may not be fully of our kind, Jon Snow, but you are not fully human either and shall never be able to go back should Robb Stark reject you.]

Jon physically flinched, but he forced himself to stay strong.

[I am aware of that, and should my family reject me Thorvald and Tola have assured me that I will have a place in their home.]

[Not as you are.] The third councilwoman tsked.

[What do you mean?] Jon asked warily.

Vethron sighed and leaned forward. [As you have already seen, Jon Snow, there are members of our race who do not hold your halfbreed status in a good light.]

[Then I could settle with a group of Skrothians who do.] Jon stated. [Until Skroth is as frequently spoken as the common tongue I will have to act as the sole ambassador between our two races, and such a task will be much easier if I remain a halfbreed.]

[But only if you are able to convince the humans to agree to peace.]

Jon's face grew hunted. [Pardon me if I offend, but what exactly are you saying?]

[We are saying that in the event that we do end up going to war with the humans we require you to either become fully Skrothian or die.] Vethron explained bluntly. [We would have given you the option of sending you on your way, but you have already seem to much of our city, and like I said before the tension will be much too high for you to hold onto your humanity while you live among us.]

Jon closed his mouth with an audible click, his heart beating in his gut.

[If I were to become fully Skrothian would I be allowed to see my half-siblings again?]

[The better question would be would _they_ want to see _you_ again.] Vethron countered, his face getting a more sympathetic edge to it. [I know this may sound harsh to you, considering the fact that you never wanted to go through the transformation in the first place, but it is the only kindest option our current situation has presented us.]

[I know that,] Jon conceded. [And I am fully willing to agree to your terms on one condition.]

[Which is?]

[That the war does not start until my heart stops.] Jon offered, sitting as tall as he could. [People change their minds all of the time, and if Robb does reject me on the first try it does not mean he will do the same on the third or fifth.]

This caused the second councilman to frown. [We don't have that much time. We will be lucky to get a few years of autumn.]

[Then a few years is all that I will ask.] Jon continued. [I have yet to properly know your people for even a day, but from what I have seen it is a culture that holds the bounds of family sacred and must be tortured by the possibility that their loved ones may perish in war.]

Sorrow darkened the council member's faces.

[It does…..you have a deal, Jon Snow. If you should die, or the first snow of true winter should fall, before the Skrothians have permission to settle south of the Wall, then you must either join us in war or face the executioner's blade.]

[A fate that I swear to face with the honor and dignity of my Lord-father's house.] Jon vowed.

[Well then,] Vethron clapped, lowering Jon backed to the floor. [I suggest you get going, winter does tend to creep up surprisingly fast.]

* * *

[Thorvald?]

[Yes, Jon?]

[How come you didn't use these tunnels to transport the baby and I to Frostgate?]

Jon learned that the Skrothians regarded Frostgate the same way Northmen regarded Winterfell, except instead of flocking to it when winter came they would travel to other cities and holdfast in order to better conserve resources. This was also why the Skrothians used a series of underground tunnels to travel.

[I would have brought you and the baby through these tunnels, Jon, but the creatures that dwell in here would have torn the Shepherds and I to pieces in order to get to you.]

[What kinds of creatures?] Jon prompted. In answer Thorvald pointed to a hound-sized-ant crawling along the wall a foot away from Jon. Like the ice spiders the ant's shell was colored in a way that would have made it invisible when it held still; mandibles clicking in an almost confused manner as if it couldn't decide if Jon was food or not. [New question: why are insects north of the Wall so big?]

[Why are they so small south?] Thorvald chuckled, sending the ant away with a hard blast of cold. [Things started out large and shrunk as time went by.]

[Oh.] Jon clicked. His attention was drawn to Alrik, and six other children, who were amusing themselves by poking at the wights inside the wheeled cages near their part of the caravan.

[ALRIK! You leave those poor creatures alone, or else I will tan your hide!] Tola barked, sticking her head out of their wheel house's back window.

The children scattered back to their own carriages and Alrik leapt up on to the back of of the unicorn-which was larger than the paintings Jon had seen and had a thick, fur, pelt and antlers-pulling their wheelhouse.

[Do humans really live in houses of mud and grass?] He inquired, propping his elbows on the steed's rump.

[Some do, but others live in homes made out of timber.] Jon informed.

[Was your house made from trees?]

[Stone,] Jon corrected. [Winterfell is a castle, built by Brandon Stark. A great builder who construed the High tower in Oldtown as well as the Wall.]

Suddenly their wheelhouse, as well as the three in the back and to the front of there's, screeched to a halt.

[Jon, did you just say the Wall was built by a human?] Tola questioned, leaning out the front flap.

[Y-yes. Why, is that a problem?]

Thorvald scoffed, urging the ice steed back into motion.

[Of course there is a problem. The Skrothians built the Wall, not the humans.]

[What!] Jon choked. [B-but why?]

[To make sure that the humans wouldn't come into our lands and kill us.] Tola explained. [How could the humans have possibly built something that big? Employ giants to stack up ice and snow like a child's building blocks?]

[...It sounds stupid when you put it that way.]

Thorvald's jaw dropped to his chest, and stayed that way until he, and the Skrothians near them, bursted out laughing.

[Well how were we supposed to know that you built it?] Jon argued. [You seemed to have one hell of a problem getting over it!]

[Remember how I told you that Skrothians can control ice with our will?] Thorvald sniggered. [Well humans have this power as well, but it is so weak that only when they think of the same thing can it be used.]

Jon frowned. [So the reason why you can not pass the Wall is because enough first men really wanted to keep you out?]

[That is the most basic explain-]

"STAY BACK YOU SNOW DEVILS!"

The roar echoed up and down the tunnel, prompting Skrothian men to draw their blades and Skrothian women to pull their children inside the their wheelhouses.

"I said get back!" The human hollered, Jon jerking his head up in realization.

[JON!] Thorvald yelled when the young man leapt off the seat and ran towards the yells.

Jon found the human man backed up against the wall, warding off a group of Skrothians and Shepherds with a spear. Although his robes were worn and dirty, and his face obscured by a scraggly beard, Jon would recognize the grey eyes anywhere.

"Uncle Benjen!"

Benjen Stark swung towards the voice, and gawked at the fey creature who shared a strong resemblance to his nephew.

"J-Jon? Is that you?"

Jon nodded, tears brimming in his eyes. "I thought you were dead. The Lord commander arranged a great ranging to come looking for you."

"He did? He-stay back!" Benjen barked, thrusting his spear at a Skrothian archer on the back of a giant ice spider.

[Don't hurt him!] Jon cried when she knocked her bow. [He is my uncle, my family. You will not harm him!]

Hearing the alien language spill so easy from Jon's mouth proofed too much for Benjen and he collapsed to the ground; Jon rushing to his side.

[Why does he smell like this?] He asked, gagging on the overwhelming smelling of rot that hit his nose when he took the man into his arms.

Thorvald knelt down beside Jon, and unlace the rough cord keeping Benjen's left boot closed; the flesh from the toes to the instep black as tar.

[He will definitely lose the toes,] Thorvald declared. [The whole foot might have to be taken in order to save him from infection.]

[Why should we try?] The archer scoffed. Jon recognized her as Katla, Thorvald's first lieutenant and Glenre's second child.]

[Because he is my son's blood uncle, and is thus my family as well.] Thorvald glared. [If you do not like it then you are free to return to Frostgate.]

Katla scowled, but wheeled her spider around and road back to her post without further protest.

[Please don't let him die, Thorvald.] Jon implored. [I only came here to find him, I-I can't lose him!]

[You won't, Jon.] Thorvald assured. [I swear on my father's name you won't.]

* * *

Jorah Mormont had heard a tale declaring that Valyrian blades were cursed….but it was only now that he started to believe they were true.

"I gave this sword to two boys who I thought would grow up to be great men, and are now both lost to me forever." The Lord Commander mournfully intoned, watching the wolf's garnet eyes wink beneath the firelight.

"Tis not your fault," Sam insisted, stirring a pot of broth over the fire.

"Jorah chose his path," The Halfhand added. "And Snow….well, he should have known better than to wander into the woods on his own."

"Is that what I should write in the letter I send to his brother?" Jeor wondered with a hollow laugh. "'I am sorry to inform you, your Grace, but your half brother perished do to his own stupidity.'. It's bad enough that the lad will have nothing to bury!"

The Halfhand shrugged. "There are countless of empty graves and tombs all across Westeros. It is not like one more will cause much harm."

"But the person it will be for could have brought much good!" Jeor snarled in frustration, and stormed over to the edge of the cliff; gazing out over the empty wasteland stretched out below. "My father once told me that some men are born to be soldiers, others are destined to be maesters, a couple are meant to be kings, and only a few are designed to be leaders."-He looked down at the blade he held in his hands- "Jon Snow was a hell of a fighter, had some sharp wits, and a back that would stand straight and tall in a throne,...but the gods had created him to be a leader."

Back at the fire Sam frowned. "Aren't kings and leaders the same thing."

Jeor shook his head. "A king gets his power because he was the first son his father had before he died. A leader gets their power because they have proved themselves worthy of having it….and it is breaking my heart to know that that boy will never get a chance to do so."

Just as he was about to throw _Longclaw_ into the abyss, a flicker of movement caught his eye.

"Who goes there?!"

The two, shadowed, figures halted in their tracks.

"It's me, Lord Commander," One whispered, raising his hands. "Benjen Stark."

Jero already knew the stranger by his voice, but waited until he stepped into a shaft of moonlight before he let himself except it.

"Ben. Wh-what happen to your foot?" The Lord Commander asked, gesturing to the splinted limb.

"Lost half of it to frostbite." The ranger explained, shifting his grip on his crutch. "But I can still whoop ya bloody if you try calling me Ben Halffoot."

Qhorin rolled his eyes. "Were you able to find out what happened to Royce and the wildlings?"

Benjen's face became bleak. "Ser Royce is dead. So are the other rangers that have gone missing."

Jeor's hopes sunk like a stone thrown into a lake.

"I am sorry to hear that…...I-I am also grave to inform you that your nephew was lost to a bear back at Craster's keep."

"Is that what that disgusting piece of filth told you?" The second stranger scowled.

From behind a mound of snow appeared Ghost, the direwolf letting out a joyful yip before rushing over to bury his snot in his human's gut.

"I missed you too, boy," Jon grinned, carding his hands through the white fur. "I hope you haven't been causing Sam too much trouble?"

"Oh, he hasn't been that…...Jon, what happened to your face?"

Jon flinched, and drew his head further into the shadows of his hood. "It's a long story."

"Then how about you start with how you are still alive?" Jeor suggested. "Was that blood even yours?"

"It was," Jon darkly said. "That night I saw craster head towards the woods with his newborn son, and when he discovered me following he tried to crack my skull open with a club."

Sam gasped. "Wh-why that, that, kin-fucking night troll! I had a feeling he was lying!"

"But how could the lad have survived such an injury?" Jeor inquired, recalling the blood soaking the snow. "Were you he healed by some wildling?"

"Someone did nurse him back to health," Benjen confessed. "But they weren't wildlings."

"But I thought you said that all the other rangers are dead." Qhorin frowned.

"They are." Jon reaffirmed, letting out a sigh. "Look, the people who saved my life have come here with me so that they may have a word with you."

"About what?" Jeor prompted, warily, his eyes catching on a shifting shadow behind Jon and Ben. "Who ever is there better come out this instant, or-"

"Please be at peace, Commander." Jon implored. "I assure you they mean you no harm."

"Then tell them to come into sight." The Halfhand repeated, placing a hand on his blade.

Jon nodded and turned towards the shadows. [It's okay to come out, Thorvald.]

Before the three sworn brothers could question about the alien words that had just slipped past Jon's lips they were stunned into silence by the creature that slid out of the dark. It was at least a head taller than Benjen, and was garbed in plate armor that absorbed the silver glow of moonlight like a rag.

"Commander, meet Thorvald son of Alti, and captain of the Frostgate city guard." Jon introduced, turning to the creature. [Thorvald, this is Lord Commander Jeor Mormont, Qhorin Halfhand, and my good friend Samwell Tarly.]

"An honor to meet you." Thorvald nodded, in graveled voice.

Sam squeaked when Thorvald's glowing blue eyes rested on him, and he fell back into the snow in a dead faint.

* * *

[Kalxie! You put that large, smelly, human down this instant!] Katla ordered.

Her ice spider chirped peevishly, but set down the human all the same; the male scampering to cower behind Jon.

"Th-that thing t-t-tried to, to eat me!" He stuttered.

"I am so sorry about that, Grenn." Jon winced. "Surprisingly, ice spiders don't like the taste of humans, but that huge fur cloak of yours must have made them think that you were a bear."

Katla sniffed, and petted the spider's head. [Good thing I stopped Klaxie from devouring the human. He might have given her a parasite.]

Jon's eyes narrowed in a withering glare. [Katla, I am well aware that you have little love for the human race, but I would really appreciate it-for the sake of _both_ of our people-if you would keep Klaxie from eating any of my friends and people!]

[It's not like I told her to try to eat the human; she has yet to eat.]

[Then go send her to hunt some _non-human_ prey.] The halfling growled between his teeth.

[As you wish,] The lieutenant tsked, turning back to her spider. [Go and eat, Klaxie, I shall call you if I have need.]

The spider chirped in confirmation, and burrowed into the snow; disappearing within seconds.

"Where did they go?" The Lord Commander demanded.

"No place where they can cause any problems." Jon promised, shooting a Katla a pointed look.

The Skrothian rolled her eyes, and casted a languid stare at the humans about her. They stared at her, and the twenty other Skrothians, with fear in their eyes and weapons shaking like branches in their hands.

[The council actually thought them a threat?] Katla snorted.

[Keep such thoughts to yourself, Lieutenant.] Thorvald warned.

Katla followed him into the largest of the Watch's tents and was nearly knocked over by the wall of heat. Even though the leaders of the Night's Watch shivered inches around the fire pit, it was enough to send prickles of pain racing across Katla's flesh.

[Are you alright?] Jon asked concerned.

[Of course I am!] Katla snapped, jerking away from the steadying hand he placed on her shoulder. Flicking a lock of braids over her shoulder, she strode over to sit beside a portion of tarp that sported an unmended tear; not letting the relief the cold air brought her.

"Jon, the Night's Watch are sworn to keep such….threats, from passing the Wall." The Lord Commander stated.

"Actually, Commander, the Night's Watch job is to defend the realm from any _threat_ from passing the Wall, and the Skrothians only wish to stay south until the coming winter is over."

"Your tone says you wish otherwise." Qhorin noted.

Jon shrugged, brushing a loose plait behind his ear. "The Skrothians have created tools, fabrics, and even plants that could vastly improve the lives of those living in Westeros, and the rest of the world."

"Jon, we can not trade with them!" The Commander denied. "Have you forgotten the tales of the Long Night?"

"The war of the past Great Winter happened because my people were trying to reclaim the lands your race stole during their absence." Thorvald countered. "At first we tried to make peace, as the tree-singers did, but your kind slaughtered our ambassadors before they could speak a word."

"So you're telling me that all of the problems we have had with the Others-"

"Skrothians, Ser Locke." Jon corrected.

"Have all been do to innocent misunderstandings?"

Jon winced. "Well not all were so innocent, but the Skrothians are not unreasonable. Many in their society are fully open to peace."

Thorin Smallwood scoffed. "You should ask Craster's sons of how peaceful these creatures are."

"I have. In fact, ten of them have come with this band in order to take their mother's, aunts, and sisters to their new settlement in the south."

"I didn't see any other humans amongst the White Walkers." Jeor puzzled

"That is because they _are_ Skrothians." Thorvald tsked. "Craster's male offspring are transformed and given to families who want them."

Benjen frowned. "So you are telling me that the whole reason why you allow Craster to live was so that he could supply children for your orhanage?"

"Yes, but they didn't do so intentionally." Jon told. "Years ago a patrol stumbled upon him and his wife-who had only a marital relation to him-, and instead of fighting Craster took his infant so from the carrier, tossed it at their feet, and ran."-Jon shrugged- "He did the same thing a year later, and the Skrothians had no real reason to stop him."

"And you believe them?!" Ser Ottyn said baffled. "Have these creatures put you under an enchantment, or are you _that_ gullible?"

The older man swallowed his words when Jon pinned him with a dark glare.

"I believe them because they were the ones who kept me from dying after Craster tried to kill me. A despicable piece of human filth that you and the Night's Watch allowed to use and abuse his wives and daughters for years without punishment!"

The Lord commander jerked back as of struck, his eyes filling with guilt.

"Jon...the Night's Watch gives Craster a blind eye not because we want to-"

"But because you have to. Just like the Skrothians have to get south of the wall." Jon finished. "They don't want to war with us, in fact, their children think we are the monsters!"

"What!" Thorin choked. "Monsters don't put walls up to keep themselves

Katla's and Thorvald's wild cackling drew all eyes upon them.

"Have the creatures gone mad?" The Halfhand asked.

"No," Jon sighed, rubbing his temple. "It's just that the Skrothians find it beyond hilarious that we think the Wall was built by humans."

The Commander frowned. "If not by humans and giants, then by who?"

Jon pointed a finger at Katla, who was now doubled over with her laughter.

"The combined will of the Night's Watch changed the Wall's magic from keeping humans out of Skrothian lands, to keeping the Skrothians in."

"So you're saying it's like someone changed the locks while they were gone?" Sam summarized.

Katla nodded, wiping away the diamond drops that had formed at the corners of her eyes.

"You," She chortled, gesturing to the humans. "Are the monsters to my people."

Jeor closed his mouth. "I still do not feel right with letting them settle south, Jon."

"We will buy portions of the Gift from you." Thorvald offered. "Jon says that it is owned by the Watch, and that no other lord has a right to dictate what is done with it."

"But it won't stop them from raising one hell of a fit."

"Which is why the Skrothians will not be moving south of the Wall until after I have gotten permission from King Robb." Jon announced. "If the lords are as loyal to him as the rumors claim than they would not dare harass the Skrothians once he has given his word."

"Your brother is in an active war zone." Benjen reminded. "You are still a sworn brother of the Night's Watch, Jon. You are forbidden from involving yourself in such conflicts."

"I know that." Jon agreed. "But my vows also say I must do all I can to protect the realm from any threat beyond the Wall, and ensuring a peace between humans and Skrothians is the best way to do so. All I ask is that you give me a chance to try."


	3. From Ice To Sea

**Disclaimer:** Game Of Thrones is the property of George RR Martin.

 **This fiction is completely finished, new chapters will be added every Sunday.**

Chapter Three

 _From Ice To Sea_

Gilly froze as the ladder let out a loud squeal.

"Quiet!" She whispered to her sister, the younger girl nodding and setting her foot lighter on the next rung.

Four other wives were waiting anxiously beside the door, bundled up in every rag and tattered pelt they owned. The rest were watching them from their places on top the loft; silently begging them to come back.

 _"I have to leave."_ Gilly mentally reaffirmed, placing a hand to her stomach when she felt her son kick. She knew it was a boy, could feel it in her bones, and she refused to let the White Walkers have him! She had just gotten the girl off the ladder when a rough hand seized her shoulder.

"Where the hell are you going!?" Craster hissed.

For a moment Gilly was frozen with fear, but then she felt a thump against her palm. "I am leaving. I don't know to where, but I will be fine as long as it's far away from you."

A hissed in breath was the only warning Gilly got before Craster's hand slapped across her cheek; so strong it spun her around, and would have knocked her to the floor if she hadn't grabbed the ladder.

"HAVE YOU GONE MAD!" He roared. "I am your husband, and your father. There is nothing out there for you! NOTHING!"

Gilly cringed as he raised his hand to strike her again.

"Don't touch her!"

Gilly looked up. "S-Sam."

The Lord stood in a glimmering pelt with a spear he leveled at her husband's head.

"L-leave her be, Craster, or else I'll run you through!"

Craster scoffed. "That spear is shaking worse than a branch in a storm, kneeler; do you think I'd be afraid of you?"

Sam paled, but stood firm, his eyes hardening with determination.

"You can all come with us." He said to the rest of the wives. "We can take you somewhere this coward will never be able to harm you."

Craster's mirth turned to fury. "How dare you! Get off my land, or else the Night's Watch will be finding a new spot to hold up against the White Walkers!"

"The proper term is Skrothians." Craster whipped around, and paled as Jon Snow leapt down from the shadows of the rafters with a bilious smile on his face. "Good to see you're as sickening as the last time I saw you, Craster."

"H-how are you here? Th-the White Walkers killed you!"

"Actually one of them took a liking to me," Jon tsked. "And decided to transform me into one of them like they did with the rest of your sons. Which reminds me. Boys, could you come out and say hello?"

From the rafters and shadowed corners of the hall emerged ten snow colored creatures with ethereal beauty and ice colored ice that glowed bright with hate at they glared at Craster.

"Hello, father." The oldest one greeted in a growl. "Recognise me?"

"Godol?" Nella piped. Ignoring her sister's warnings she clambered down from the rafters, and approached the being; trembling hands reaching up to touch a pale red, stone, ring hanging on the end of a long braid. "I-I found this on the night my first son was born. Tucked it into the blankets when Craster took him to be sacrificed."

A sad smile slipped across the Skrothian's face, and he clasped Nella's hand gently between his.

"My name Hjorrt," He confessed. "But stone, found with me as a youngling….the feel of your hand familiar."

Nella let out a cry of joy that was choked by a sob, watery eyes filling with hate as she turned to look at her husband.

"You lied to me!" She accused. "You told us that the Walkers would tolerate no men besides you in these lands!"

"H-how dare you question me!" Craster spluttered. "Giving up our sons was a choice I had to make in order to keep us alive!"

"No you did not!" Hjorrt roared, pointing an accusing finger at his father. "You coward, and don't deserve any of these mates. Brothers and I are going to take them all back, and leave you to rot in snow like you did us!"

Paling further, Craster picked up his axe.

"This is all your fault!" He roared at Jon, swinging his axe towards the bastard's head.

In one, smooth, motion Jon pulled _Longclaw_ from its sheath and sliced it through both of Craster's wrist. The action was so quick that it surprised even Jon, and took a few seconds for Craster to start screaming.

"Grab whatever you wish, but please be quick." Jon told the wives, stepping around Craster who had sunk to the floor screaming at his bloody stumps. "We have to get to Whitetree."

"What's in Whitetree?" Gilly asked, moving into Sam's arms.

Jon gave her a smile. "Your new, temporary home."

[I want you to have this.] Thorvald said, slipping his pendant from around his neck onto Jon's.

The palm sized opal was a swirl of blues and whites that made it appear as if a small, snowy, mountain range was trapped inside.

[It's beautiful.] Jon said in awe.

[My brother Ulfar found it on his first journey outside Frostgate.] Thorvald explained, wistfully. [He said that as long as I had it with me I would never forget where my home is...we could be your home, Jon.]

[I know that, Thorvald.] Jon assured. [And I am grateful to you for it.]

[Not enough to let me come with you.] The Skrothian scoffed.

Jon rolled his eyes. [You know that you are needed here, and I already had one father go south and never return.]

Thorvald's eyes went wide, and he embraced Jon in a hug.

[I know you said you would not seek vengeance for you blood father,] He said. [But I know that your heart still burns with anger at those who took him from you.]

The faces of Joffrey,Cersei, and Jaime flashed in Jon's head.

[I can not be that selfish.] He reaffirmed, more to himself than to Thorvald. [Winter could come at anytime.]

[There is always enough time for family.]

The second the rowboat came to rest on the sandy beach, Gilly bent over the side and spewed her guts into the surf.

"What's wrong? Is it the baby?" Sam inquired in a panic.

Gilly shook her head and wiped the sick from her mouth. "Just a lingering bit of seasickness."

At the oars Grenn rolled his eyes. "Why exactly did we have to bring her?"

"Because she made Sam promise to keep her at his side." Pyp tsked.

"And Tarly hasn't gotten the spine to send her away." Edd sighed.

"And I need him with me since he is the most competent writer the Watch could spare." Jon finished with a pointed look.

Satin sniffed in offense. "You say that as of we are the bottom of the barrel."

"You're not the top either." Katla pointed out, leaping onto the sand as her rowboat pulled in beside theirs. Her, plus the five other Skrothians and Ghost, brought their party up to fourteen.

"Do we have any ginger root?" Sam queried.

"She ate, and threw up, the last of it back on the _Blackbird._ " Edd reported. "That is unless you want to pick some bits of it out of my hat."

"I said I would buy you a new one." Sam muttered, helping Gilly out the boat. "Guess we will have to buy some as well."

"Why do we have to buy anything at all?" Grenn questioned. "Wouldn't the Glovers be willing to give us all the supplies we need?"

"Only if I explained the purpose of our mission, and I want to be as discreet as possible." Jon would have taken the _Blackbird_ all the way to the Riverlands,but he was lucky the Lord Commander let him take it this far. [Katla, you, Ghost, and the others stay out of sight until we return with the supplies.]

The archer frowned. [And why should we do that? Thorvald did order us to remain at your side.]

[No, he ordered you to obey my commands. It'd be too suspicious to be seen with a group as bundled up as you.] Jon stated, kneeling down before his wolf. "The same goes for you too, boy."

The dire wolf whined pitifully, but remained at Katla's side as he and the others walked up from the beach. As they neared Deep Moat's outskirts-just as the sun was starting to rise-, they split into three groups: Pyp, Grenn, and Edd pretending to be sellswords hoping to join Robb's army, Gilly and Sam playing a married couple seeking refuge in Winterfell, and because their dark hair Jon and Satin acted as if they were brothers bound for Torrhen's square.

"Tis a shame that times have gotten so bad that a lovely young woman, such as yourself, has to wear men's garb in order to travel safely." The baker tsked, patting the back of Jon's hand.

Jon was so stunned that by the time he mustered the will to speak Satin slid in beside him

"It truly is," He woefully sighed, wrapping an arm about Jon's shoulders as of in comfort . "I'd be taking my darling sister to get a wedding dress, were it a year ago, but now I must give her to the Faith just so the ruffians and cut throats won't abuse her!"

The baker's wife frowned in pity, and placed three more loafs into their sack.

"No need for payment." She assured. "You already have enough to worry about."

"Thank you so much, ma'am!" Satin glowed. "I shall pray the seven bring you great fortune. Come now, Joanna."

Jon managed to hold his tongue until they were on the shadows of an alley.

"Joanna!" He hissed. "Do I really look like a woman?"

Satin shrugged. "People around here aren't used to men with face lines as clean as yours."

"Your lines are clean, but those two didn't mistake you for a girl." Jon pointed out.

"That's because my looks aren't as...ethereal as yours." The older boy suggested. "It's nothing to get bent out of shape over. In fact, maybe you should just masquerade as a woman until we reach your brother?"

Satin flinched at the dark look in Jon's eyes.

"Never suggest such a thing again unless you want _Longclaw_ shoved up your-" The words stopped dead in Jon's mouth, the breeze bringing him the scent of iron, blood, and the moldy salt of the sea.

Seeing the sudden tenses, Satin frowned. "Jon-"

The Snow shushed his companion and nipped over to the outer wall, ignoring Satin's calls as he scaled up the palisades. When Jon reached the top he wasn't greeted by the miles of tidal flats, but an armored man. The stranger was frozen in shock for the barest of seconds, but they were enough for Jon to punch him in the jaw and sending him tumbling down the wall. The sun was still resting languidly on the horizon, but the darkness could not hide the row of long ships waiting on the shore.

"WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!" He cried at the top of his lungs. "IRONBORN! IRONBORN RAIDERS ON THE TIDES!"

"What part of quite didn't the advance party not understand?" Asha cursed as alarm bells echoes down to the shore. Just then a rider came up to the ship. "Have you breached the bailey?"

"No, captain" The Ironborn reported. "The Motte's forces were able to push our men back."

"Who is leading them?" Quarl demanded.

"A fae-faced lad with hair black as a raven's wing and grey eyes bled with ice blue; some said his eyes even glowed!"

Asha frowned, and shook her head. "The element of surprise is lost,tell the men to charge the bailey. And when they get inside make sure that they bring this "ice-eyed" commander to me alive."

"Well, we're screwed."

Jon shot Grenn a withering glare however he had to agreed with the assessment as he scanned Deepwood's armory; which could only be called that by the two rocks of spears and thirty swords lining its wall.

"Lady Glover, are you sure this,"-Jon gestured to the sparse chamber-"Is all that your Lord-husband and brother-and-law left you."

Sybelle Glover nodded, anxiously bouncing her infant daughter at her breast as the sounds of battle echoed muffly through the walls. "Robette never expected that the ironborns would attack, but he did leave us enough supplies to make spears, bows and arrows."

"Then we need to get on that immediately." Jon declared, turning to his friends. "Satin, I want you to gather up all the fletchers and blacksmith and start filling this armory. Edd, go down to the kitchen and have them start boiling animal fat, resin, and the contents of every privy in this Keep; you go with him, Sam. I want a detailed record of how much food and water we have available as well as a rationing plan that will last us for as long as month. Pyp, Grenn, I want you two to gather up as many able bodied person as you can and start dampening every roof and wall that could be within firing range in case the ironborn try to set-"

"Wait just a moment!" Deepwood's steward barked. "Who gave you the right to order us about as if you are the Lord of this Keep?"

Jon rubbed the tense spot of muscles forming on his brow. Although Lord Galbart had left Lady Sybelle in charge the woman was wrapped around the finger of the castle's steward, and Jon Snow was still perplexed over how Deepwood had yet to crumble beneath the weight of the man's decisions!

"Good steward, I have no wish to entrench on Lady Sybelle's authority," Jon gritted. "But the captain of your guard was sent to the Stranger with an arrow through his left eye moments ago thus leaving my companions and I the only people with enough knowledge to keep those raiders from turning every man, woman, and child living here into a bloody corpse or a slave."

Lady Sybelle gasped and her steward flushed red.

"You-"

"Because of this," Jon cut. "I highly suggest that you save your prejudice and entitlements until _after_ the risk of such horrendous fates has past us by."

"But you can't just-"

"JON!" Gilly cried, waddling down the hall. "The ironborn are attackin to the fence!"

Lady Sybelle paled, but her eyes filled with a determined glint. "Deepwood's forces are yours to command, Lord Snow."

The steward choked on his own tongue. "My Lady! I must-"

"Be quiet and go tell the others of my decision." The Lady ordered. "I refuse to have my husband's home taken by those savage pirates!"

The steward closed his mouth with an audible click, and Jon gave Lady Glover a bow.

"Thank you, my Lady, please get yourself and your children to safety." He said. "Pyp, Grenn, you come with me. The rest carry out my orders."

"Yes, Jon." They said, Jon practically flying out of the keep. Just as Gilly had said the ironborn had scaled over the dyike, stretched planks across the ditch and were hacking away at the thick logs with large axs.

"PREPARE SHIELD WALL!" Jon hollered, jumping the last five steps into the bailey. The Deepwood soldiers snapped into the formation perfectly, but their hands trembled about their shields and weapons. They weren't the dregs of the army, but they had been the ones too young or too old to follow Lord Glover into war.

 _"You just have to keep them out long enough."_ Jon's mind reminded, taking a shield at the center of the line. He had sent Sam to the rookery to send ravens to Winterfell and all other settlements along the coast barely an hour after the siege began. The ironborn arches were able to shoot down a couple of the ravens, but enough had gotten out of range with their warnings and calls for aid. Jon prayed to the old and new gods that he would get a reply.

"FIRST RANK, PYKES AT CHARGE!" The shaft of a long spears folded down onto his shoulder and through the gap between the shields; it's wielder letting out a gasp when the ironborn broke through. "FORWARD MARCH!"

Wood and metal clanked rhythmically as the soldiers marched down the road towards the ironborn. Jon had to admit that they were an intimidating, hurling axes as well as curses at the approaching defenders without a shred of concern over the line of spears aimed at them.

"STAY STRONG!" Jon yelled at the soldiers as well as to himself. "DIE AS FREE MEN OF THE NORTH! NOT AS SLAVES TO THESE COWARDS!"

The declaration-thankfully-struck a cord, for the soldiers movements became stronger and they even started shouting back at the ironborn.

"YOU WILL NOT HAVE MY HOME!"

"GET OUT YOU SEA RATS!"

"TELL THE STRANGER I SEND MY REGARDS!"

The cries caused the invaders to falter-obviously not expecting such a resistance-while the Deepwood soldiers strengthened the chant "DIE FREE!" echoing through the ranks as they forced the ironborn back through the gap. The ones who didn't were skewered against the logs.

"ARCHERS! CLEAR THE FIELD!" Jon called over the grunts and screams. "GET THE ENEMY AWAY FROM THE WALL!"

Bow strings twanged and men cried out in agony as Jon's order was carried out; the pressure against his shield growing weaker and weaker until it was flushed with the timbers.

"NEW STAKE! PLUG UP THE HOLE!"

Men rushed forward to do so, Jon keeping the pressure on his shield until the log was securely lashed into place.

"THE IRONBORN ARE RETREATING!" A man yelled, eliciting cheers from the soldiers.

"How many battles have you commanded?" Lawrence Snow asked in awe.

Jon gave him a tired smirk. "Counting this one? One."


	4. Below The Neck

**Summary:** Instead of simply knocking Jon out Craster tries to kill him prompting a series of events that will forever change Westeros.

 **Disclaimer:** Game Of Thrones is the property of George RR Martin.

 **This fiction is completely finished, new chapters will be added every Sunday.**

Chapter Four

 _Below The Neck_

"Have the ironborn managed to take anymore cities?"

"They have taken Mote Callin, and a number of villages along the Stony Shore," Roose Bolton informed. "But since your half brother was able to send them a raven Torrhen's square was able to keep Theon Greyjoy's forces at bay until they were forced to return to Pyke."

"He'll stay on those islands if he's smart." Robb snarled. Theon's betrayal had hit him like a punch, and made him thirst for the traitor's head so bad that his men had to restrain him less he'd ride for the Iron Islands! "What of my brothers?"

"Ser Rodrik has been instructed to keep watch for any invaders." Rose replied.

"And Jon?"

"Still holding out against Balon's daughter at Deepwood." Greatjon answered. "The bastard is certainly giving those pirates a run. They say he can turn into a direwolf and supposedly commands a garrison of warriors made from snow and frost!"

* * *

Asha's smile disappeared when she followed the fleeing Northmen into the inner bailey and found a killing field waiting for her and her men. On the rooftops, and behind a barrier of carts and wagons, were men and women armed with bows and rocks. Asha turned back to lead a retreat, but found the hole the battering ram had punched through the gate being similarly blocked.

"Surrender, Lady Asha." Jon Snow ordered, his valyrian blade in one hand and his monster of a direwolf at his side. The beast had been just as much trouble to Asha as his master was, throughout the siege.

He had killed thirty of her men, at last count, dragging them from their bunks in the middle of the night and leaving them as piles of blood and bone to be stumbled upon the next morning. Snow's hooded and cowled guards employed similar tactics except the men they killed would not have a mark on them, their bodies cold to the touch and faces frozen in horror. The attacks had whittled away half of her forces within a fortnight and threatened to send the rest fleeing, which is why Asha had ordered one last push to capture the city.

 _"I thought that wall broke too easily."_ She thought bitterly, glowering at Jon. "What of my men, Snow?"

"Their fates, as well as yours, shall be decided by King Robb." Jon declared. "These are his lands you tried to steal, and as such your punishment shall be his to deal out."

Asha snorted, and tossed her axe on the ground at the bastard's feet. "He will kill me if he was smart."

"I will advise him to do so." Jon stated, the dark look in his eyes sending a chill down Asha's spine.

The ironborn was used to such hatred from her enemies, but only after she had bested them. Jon had one and yet he still regarded her as threat that needed to be annihilated, his fingers leaving a bruise band on her forearm as he personally escorted to the line of jail pens at the base of the motte.

"This explains what they were building the other night." Hagen tsked.

"Cocky bastard." Rolfe grunted. "You have a plan for getting us out of here, captain?"

"Of course I do." Asha said with a smirk. "Jon Snow may be clever , but he is still a novice when it comes to waging war."

* * *

"Please tell me the mountain houses are on their way?"

"The Harclays, Burleys, and Mormonts should be here by tomorrow morning." Sam informed him.

Jon sighed in relief. "We will station half of the forces here, in case the ironborn launch a second wave, and tale the rest to help us escort the prisoners to Riverrun."

"But Victarion Greyjoy holds Moat Cailin," Lady Sybele reminded. "How do you expect to get past him."

"A raven from the Dreadfort said that a garrison is heading towards the Moat as we speak."

"Who leads them?"

Sam shifted through the stack of messages. "Lord Bolton's natural born son, Ramsay Snow."

Jon suppressed a groan. "Hopefully he will have chased the ironborn out by the time we get there."-He rose from his seat- "That will be enough for today. Get some rest, and be ready to move out the second the reinforcements arrive."

"Ambassador Snow?" Larence Snow called. "I was wondering if I may be allowed to accompany you as your squire."

Jon's brows winged up in surprise. Although he had noticed that the younger bastard had taken a bit of a shine to him, he didn't know if it was to this extent.

"I am not sure I can do so, Larence. Your guardians wouldn't like you to be brought into such a dangerous situation."

"I have already given my consent, Lord Snow." Lady Sybele explained. "After seeing how you protected my home, I am confident to leave Larence in your care."

Jon turned back to the boy. "We are headed into an active war zone. You might see things that will be pretty unpleasant."

Larence shrugged. "I know, but it's not like I can stay a boy forever."

Jon flinched as the words echoed back to a distant, more happier, past.

* * *

Bran was awakened by a knock upon his bedroom door.

"Who is it?" He called, voice mumbled heavily by exhaustion. The dreams that had come to him the night before had been absolutely horrible: An army of corpses approaching Winterfell ,in the wake of a heavy snowfall, who were lead by a dark figure with ice shard eyes and lips stained by red and white blood.

"It is me, my Lord." Maester Luwin said "I am sorry for awakening you at such an early hour, but there is someone here who insists upon speaking with you."

Bran rolled his eyes and plopped his head back on the pillow.

"Tell him to wait in the Great Hall for an hour." He groaned, snuggling into the sheets. "His grievances can not be so dire that they can not wait until I am at least out of my nightclothes."

There came a light chuckle. "Oh how responsibility has aged you, little brother."

Bran's eyes snapped open, and he sat up on his elbows just as the door swung open.

"J-Jon?"

His half-brother's mouth split into a wide grin, and he dashed over to pull Bran into a tight hug.

"It's good to see you too, Bran!" His voice bubbling with joy.

For a moment Bran was unsure of what to do. Although Jon was far from cold, he was rarely the one to initiate such an intimate contact. The young lord's surprised was mirrored by the maester at the door.

"I will leave you alone to talk." He announced, closing the bedroom door softly behind him.

"By the old gods you have changed," Jon noted, pulling away to look at Bran's face. "I might not have recognised you if I'd stayed away another year."

"I could say the same." Bran muttered, running an eye over Jon's plaited raven tresses, and prince-worthy clothes. "What are you doing here? Please tell me you haven't deserted to go join Robb in the war?"

"Of course not, but I do have to speak to Robb." Jon explained, pausing when he noticed the thin outline of Bran's legs beneath the furs. "I'm sorry."

Bran frowned, placing a hand on Jon's shoulder. "Jon, it wasn't your fault I fell."

"But I should have been watching you," His half-brother insisted. "I was mad that Lady Stark wouldn't let me go hunting with father and the King that I moped about in my room…...perhaps this whole war would have been avoided if I hadn't been so childish."

"Do not say that." Bran ordered. "The Queen and Kingslayer started this whole mess, not you, and I'll have any fool who says otherwise flogged."

Jon smirked, and ruffled Bran's auburn tresses. "Listen to you? Talking as if you have been Lord for years."

"It feels like I have." Bran sighed. "The Lord's treat my favor like a buzzard would a fresh carcass, and I was surprised my hair didn't go white-...Jon, what happened to your eyes?"

His half brother ducked his head-as if to hide the ring of blue on his outer iris-,and ended up exposing the pointed tips of his ears in the processes.

"I-I've heard rumors about you," Bran reported. "They say that you sold your soul to the Others, and used your powers to freeze the ironborn reavers at Deepwood."

"That's not what happened." Jon insisted, wincing at the bit of fear in his brother's eyes. "Do you remember how father used to say that my curiosity would one day get me killed?"

* * *

Ramsay had reached Moat Cailin by the time Jon and his party arrived, and was just finishing of the last of the ironborns.

"It was like this marsh was keeping us out on purpose." Ramsay scowled. "It would stick my men in its muck long enough for those pirates to shoot them full of arrows!"

"Why didn't you use boats?" Jon suggested.

"I did, but the water is either too shallow or too filled with weeds to steer through."

Jon frowned. "The crannogmen should have known how to-"

"The frogeaters refused to coordinate an attack with me." Ramsay sighed. "They're still sore about the last time I was here."

"What did you do?" Katla inquired. In order to find relief from the "sweltering heat" the lieutenant had striped down to a vest and breeches with her snow-colored locks pulled away from her neck.

"I mistook a couple of them for a lizard lion." Ramsay shrugged, eyes tracking a drop of sweat that rolled from Kayla's neck to the swell of her breast.

Rolling his eyes Jon rose from his seat. "I thank you for your assistance, Ramsay, I will be sure to inform my brother of your exploits."

"I'd rather tell him that myself." Ramsay said. "Locke should be enough to hold Moat Cailin, and keep an eye on the prisoners you brought from Deepwood."

"Especially the princess." Locke said with a leer.

"Asha Greyjoy will be coming with me." Jon stated. "Her uncle could come back, and she is too valuable a hostage to lose."

"What about the rest of them?"

"Kept alive and in fair condition until King Robb says otherwise." Jon stated, giving Locke a pointed look.

"As you wish, Ice Prince." Ramsay complied with a bow.

Jon scowled and rose from the table. "The proper form of address is " your excellency" or "ambassador Snow". Be ready to move out at first light."

Ramsay snorted as Jon stormed out of the tent.

"Where did he get that stick up his ass?"

"Would you be so relaxed if you were the only thing standing between your race and certain death?" Katla challenged.

* * *

Gilly gave birth to her son just as they reached the Twins. Her spine had been knotted the whole day before, and Jon wouldn't have been surprised if the people at the Crossroads heard her screams.

"What is she going to name the baby?" Larence inquired as he pinned a cape to Jon's shoulders.

Jon shrugged. "It's tradition for wildlings to wait awhile before they name a child. So their parents won't get too attached to them in case they die."

"But that's silly," Larence frowned. "A name, or lack there of, won't stop people from mourning a person...speaking of names, how come you are named Snow?"

"Pardon?"

Larence looked down at his feet. "I don't mean to offend you, but since you were born in Dorne shouldn't your surname be Sand?"

"It should, but Lord Stark said that didn't suit me." Jon explained wistfully. "He said that the claim those rolling deserts and scorching sun had on me was not half as strong as the North did."

"Lord Stark was a good man." The boy mused.

"He was...come, let us not keep Lord Frey waiting any longer."

Mere seconds after meeting Lord Frey Jon concluded that he was the most slimiest human being he had the misfortune of meeting.

"Too bad you were born a male, Snow. Even if you were still a whoreborn, you have such a pretty face that I would have made you my eighth wife!"

 _"So this is what it feels like to have your soul scream in abject horror."_ Jon thought, forcing on a courteous smile. "That is very kind of you, my Lord, but I fear you will have to settle for us being in-laws...forgive me if I seem rude, but which one of your children have my half-siblings been promised to?"

Lord Frey snorted. "Want to tell your brother how many teeth they got left?"

"Only wish to see as much of my family as I can." Jon asserted. "I will be returning to the Wall after this mission is through and might not get a chance to see your son and daughter until I am introduced to _their_ children."

Again Lord Frey snorted, and gestured to a group standing on the left side of the hall. "Elmar, Roslin, come let Stark's bastard take a look at you."

"Yes father." A boy and girl responded stepping forward.

The boy was of the typical Frey stock with a short, lanky, body and tar black hair that hung in limp strands about his face. His sister was small and pale as well, but had all of the beauty her sister's lack.

"Tis an honor to meet you Ambassador Snow." Roslin greeted with a curtsy. "I hope I will be able to be a good, and dutiful wife, to your brother."

"I am sure Robb will be overjoyed to wed a woman such as you, my Lady." Jon couldn't say the same for Elmar. "How old are you?"

"I-I just turned nine." Elmar squeaked, unused to the hard stare the Snow was giving him.

"Have you started sword training?" Elmar nodded. "How are you doing?"

"Not very good."

Jon lifted his head to meet his eyes.

"Then I suggest you get better. You're going to marry a princess one day, and must be able to protect her."

A determined glint entered Elmar's eyes. "I will."

"Good." Jon said, turning back to his father. "I thank you once more for your hospitality, Lord Frey."

Jon was in such a hurry to leave the castle that his hands practically blurred as he secured Asha's legs to his saddle.

"Like my company, Snow?"

"No." He answered, climbing on in front of her. "But after your brother's betrayal I realize that letting you Greyjoys out of eyesight is not a very good idea."

"You act as of my brother was not a hostage."

"You say that as if it is not your Lord-father's fault that he was." Jon clipped. "Balon was the one to start raiding the mainland, did he think that the other kingdoms would just lay back and let him."

Asha scowled. "You talk so lowly of us."

"It's hard to think highly of rapers and slavers."

"We do not take slaves!"

Jon scoffed. "You steal men and women from their homes, and force them to work in your mines and warm your beds under the threat of harm. Calling it a different word does not change what it is."

"I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand."

Jon stalled his horse. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Asha gestured to the surrounding forest. "The Iron Islands have not a quarter of the plants and fertile land the North does. If a man does not raid he gets to watch his wife and children starve to death."

"Or he could trade for the food he needs." Jon countered,starting his horse once more. "The North may be big, but the mines on your island make them far more wealthy."

Asha shook her head. "To do so would go against the old way."

"Then why don't you change it?"

"The same reasons you Northerners don't cut down your carved trees." Asha replied. "It is part of our culture. It has helped us survive for thousands of years."

"But does it help you to live? At some point you have to stop fighting people and start talking to them, or else you will not live long."

Asha snorted. "I don't care how long death takes to come for me, Snow, just as long as I die as the way I lived, with an axe in my hand and a laugh upon my lips."


	5. The Choices We Make

**Summary:** Instead of simply knocking Jon out Craster tries to kill him prompting a series of events that will forever change Westeros.

 **Disclaimer:** Game Of Thrones is the property of George RR Martin.

 **This fiction is completely finished, new chapters will be added every Sunday.**

Chapter Five

 _The Choice We Make_

Jon felt a grin spread across his face as he gazed down at the sea of tents spread out from the banks of the Red Fork to the gates of Riverrun. All sense of decorum flew out the window when he spotted a head of auburn hair beneath the eaves of a tree at the edge of the camp.

"Easy!" Asha gasped, grasping Jon's shoulders as he dug his heels into his horse's sides, and shot down the slope towards the tree.

"Robb! I-" Jon stopped when he saw that his brother wasn't alone. In his arms was a lovely, olive skinned, woman with dark hair and full lips that were starting to swell from the harsh kiss she and Robb had been locked in. "Who is this?"

Robb frowned at the accusatory tone in his brother's voice.

"Lady Talisa Maegry of Volantis." Robb informed. "Talisa, this is my half brother, Jon Snow, and the woman sharing his horse is..."

"Asha Greyjoy." Asha finished, her face slack jawed from shock.

"It is a pleasure to meet you." Talisa greeted with demure bow of her head: A mix of surprise and displeasure; as if he had just discovered the destruction of a beloveded artifact.

"Katla."

"Yes, Jon?" The lieutenant replied riding over, Robb and Talisa letting out gasps at her snow colored appearance.

Dismounting from the horse Jon handed her the reins.

"Secure the prisoners in the keep. I wish to speak to my brother. Alone."

The emphasis on the word uneased Robb even further, and he turned to his love.

"Wait for me in my tent." He said, kissing her fingers.

"Don't be too long." Talisa replied, voice bubbling. The glee went away when she caught Jon's gaze once more; the blue grey eyes drilling into her back as she followed the line of newcomers back to the camp.

"What was that all about?" Robb demanded when they were alone.

Jon raised a brow. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? That is, unless Lady Talisa is truly a Frey in disguise?"

Robb groaned, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I didn't think that you of all people would grieve to me about this."

"You are to wed Roslin of House Frey!" Jon barked. "Do you have any idea how bad things would have been if it was one of her bannermen who caught you cheating on her with some foreign woman, and not I?"

"Don't speak about Talisa like that. And I can't cheat on a woman I have yet to even meet!"

"I have met her," Jon gritted between his teeth."And I am still shocked that Lord Frey was able to produce such a sweet girl."

Robb scoffed. "You sound so infatuated with her. Mayhaps you should make her your wife?"

Jon stormed up to Robb and slapped him across his face; the crack of flesh against flesh echoing to the camp

"Wh-why did you do that for?!" Robb yelped, pressing a hand to his burning cheek.

"Because our Lord-father is not here to do it himself! You promised Lord Walder Frey a king for a son-in-law not the bastard-half-brother of one!"

Robb narrowed his eyes. "I am giving his son a princess-"

"Which we will be lucky if Arya doesn't try to skewer you and him both." Jon cut. "And-forgetting that she is not some broodmare for you to sell-she is only the _second_ born _daughter_ of House Stark. You might as well give Lord Frey a scullery maid with the amount of political power the union will bring him!"

"I have already realized that." Robb countered. "Lord Frey has had his eyes on uncle Edmure for years, and if Joffrey has left her untouched then Sansa-"

Catelyn Stark had arrived in time to see her late husband's bastard knock her son to the ground.

"Stop hitting me!"

"WHEN YOU STOP ACTING LIKE A SPOILED CUNT, I WILL!" Jon roared. "Family members are not things you can barter and trade just so you can have a woman you don't even know!"

"I do know Talisa!" Robb retorted. "She is compassionate, wise, and loves me above everything else."

"You, or that crown you wear?" Jon challenged.

Hissing in a breath Robb jumped to his feet, and drew himself up to his full height. Jon was a half head taller than him, but Robb's body was more bulky.

"Don't you ever make such a statement again." He warned. "Talisa is the woman I love, my queen, and mother of my children!"

Jon's face drained of color. "Sh-she's pregnant?"

"She could be." Robb shrugged, sighing as he raked a hand through his curls. "The child would be a bastard if I do not marry Talisa. You of all people should know how hard such a life is."

"The life of a child born from adultery is just as hard. Even if their sire and his mistress are wed before they are born." Jon reasoned. "...Robb your parents union happened during a time of war as well, Lord Stark didn't even know your mother until he met her at the altar, but he was still able to build a love strong enough to last him till the day he died."

"Not strong enough to keep you from happening." Robb commented crastocaly.

Jon wanted to strike him again, but restrained himself. "And the consequences of that decision should be enough of a deterrent for you."

Robb threw up his hands.

"What do you want me to do, Jon?"

"Send Talisa away, and have Lord Walder bring Roslin to Riverrun so that you may make her your wife. I can not promise you that you will grow to love her," Jon added when Robb made to protest. "But it would be extremely difficult for you and she not to become friends."

"I don't want friendship."

"You lost the right to decide what you want when the Lannisters put father in chains."

The blunt reply caused Robb to flinch, his eyes narrowing venomously on his sibling.

"I am Eddard Stark's first, _trueborn,_ son. You didn't have the right to order me about even before I was a king or when you had all of your humanity."

Robb turned and stormed away as Jon's face fell, gazing at Lady Stark for help.

"I tried," She said shaking her head. "But with Ned's death, and Theon's betrayal, my words just can't reach him."

* * *

Asha knew that the Northmen were strict about etiquette, but not to the point where they would knock before entering the chamber she'd been confined in.

"Jon...why are you soaking wet?"

Water pulled the Snow's curls into straight lines that nearly reached his waist, and formed an inch deep puddle about his feet.

"I stood in the rain for two hours. " Jon shrugged. "Can I come in?"

Frowning Asha pulled him inside, and maneuvered him out of his wet clothes, and into a linen nightshirt and pants she'd found in the back of the room's wardrobe. She definitely knew that something was wrong when the usually shy, and bashful, Northerner showed no qualms about stripping bare before him; although Asha had no problem with the view.

"It's not uncommon for men in war to find comfort in women who are not their betrothed." Asha reasoned, wrapping a towel about Jon's hair. "If Walder Frey wanted your brother to stay true he should have had him marry his daughter at the Twins, or at the very least make Robb bring her along."

"Maybe he thought my brother too honorable to lay with another woman...or plan to wed one."

Asha's hands froze. "Tell me he's not? Dorne and the Reach allied with Joffrey after Blackwater, and word around the camp says that the Karstarks are going to march home if their Lord doesn't get the Kingslayers head. Add my father to the mix and losing the Freys is the dumbest move ever!"

"I know that, but Robb doesn't care." Jon confessed. "He loves Lady Talisa, they say she is the only one who can make him smile now a days."

Asha scoffed And went to get another cloth.

"All because someone can make you feel good doesn't mean you are in love with them. In fact, some say that true love only happens if you can't stand the person."

"How come?" Jon frowned.

Asha walked back and started toweling. "Because the only way they would know how to get ya steaming is if they took the time to get to know who you actually are. Love at first sight is nothing but extreme infatuation with a dash of lust."

Jon chuckled. "I always thought that I would know I was in love when I started praying that no matter how long my wife would live that the gods would take me a day before they took her."

"Because?" Asha prompted.

"So that I wouldn't have to endure a single second without her in my life. ...A part of me wants to be happy for Robb, but the other can't shake the dread over the consequences that would come if he breaks his agreement with the Freys."

"It sounds to me that you have already thought of a solution to this problem."

"I have."

"Then why aren't you doing it?"

"Because...because I know it is going to make Robb hate me."

Rolling her eyes Asha sat down on the bed beside him. "I lost all three of my brothers in my father's rebellion, and even if they had returned to me hating the very ground I walked on I would be beyond happy."

"Why?"

"Because," Asha sighed. "Dead men can not make amends. Even if whatever you have planned is going to make your brother hate you until you are both grey and bent at least he shall be alive to do so."

Jon looked up at her, noticing the flecks of green and gold in her eyes for the first time.

"Thank you, Asha."

The Greyjoy smirked. "You're welcome, Jon."

* * *

Talisa grinned as she looked over the gown she'd pulled from her trunk. It wasn't as fancy as she would like, but Robb had told her it didn't matter.

"We can have a more decorative wedding when the war is over," He'd promised. "I don't want to waste another second without you as my wife."

Talisa had managed to convince him to wait until after the rainstorm was over, but even she was excited. So much so that she opened the door fully expecting it to be her Robb.

"What are you doing here?"

"I only mean to apologize for my behavior earlier today ." Jon Snow assured. "I was also hoping I could give you a gift."

Talisa eyed him-and the male Other standing behind him-warily, but decided to let them in.

 _"I am going to be his brother's wife and queen, he wouldn't dare hurt me."_ She affirmed as the Other set a small chest on the desk.

"Lady Stark says that you met my brother while working as a field nurse," Jon said. "And the men you treated all say you are quite dedicated to your practice."

"As a healer should be." Talisa clipped. "What is in the chest?"

"Something that I think shall interest you very much." Jon said.

Talisa expected gold or jewels, but instead the Northern bastard pulled out a crystal bottle filled with a white powder.

"When mixed with water this powder turns into a salve so powerful it can heal wounds in seconds."

"That's not possible." Talks denied.

In rebuttal, Jon pour a bit of the mister into a water bowl, cut a line on his palm, and smeared the paste onto it.

"I do not know how it is made." Jon confessed, showing the woman his healed cut. "But Gamli here has a sister who has become a master healer and is now looking for an apprentice."

"So you are trying to get rid of me." Talisa scowled. "I love your brother. I'm not some whore looking to claim a crown and throne!"

"And I am ashamed of myself for ever thinking that you are." Jon calmed. "You are a good person, Lady Talisa, but you are also the lover of a man who was betrothed to another long before he met you."

"Robb doesn't love the Frey girl." Talisa sniffed. "Do you want to see him unhappy for the rest of his life?"

"Do you want to see him rotting in a grave?" Jon challenged. "I do not mean to frighten you, my Lady, but we are in a war. Every single decision, no matter how insignificant it seems, is one between life and death."

"I am not some naive highborn, Lord Snow. Back in my home country the wrong decision could get you killed or owned to the end of your days!"

"Which is why I am begging you to let my brother go!" Jon implored, falling to his knees and clasping Talisa's hand. "I am already pushing the boundaries of my vows to stay out of matters that do not concern the Wall so if Robb falls into trouble as a result of this union I will be unable to help him."

"I love your brother." Talisa repeated, tears brimming in her eyes. "He is the first man I have ever loved."

"And you are Robb's first love as well, but that doesn't mean you two are the only loves you will ever have." Jon sighed, and rose to his feet. "I can not force you to leave, Lady Talisa, but Gamli shall only keep his horse saddled for another hour."

With that Jon and Gamli left, leaving Talisa to stare between the wedding gown and the salve bottle through a blurry film of tears.

* * *

"Orland."

"Korban."

"Grahar."

"Jaxar."

"Carrel."

"Koryn."

"Cayle."

"Cadder."

"How about you just name the little monster after his father?"

Sam frowned, and looked over at the Kingslayer who watched them from behind the bars of a nearby cage. That morning Gilly had mentioned that she didn't know any male names to give her son prompting Sam and the others to make suggestions.

"The boys father doesn't deserve to have a privacy named after him."

The jape caused Gilly's son to let out a coo that even had Katla smiling.

"In the old days Skrothians considered the father of a child to be the first person to hold him or her after they left their mother's body." She explained. "Since Samwell was the first one to hold this one perhaps we should give him his name?"

"Sam..." Gilly hummed testing the name about. "We could call him little-Sam to avoid getting you two confused."

Again her son cooed, Samwell offering him a finger to wrap his hand around.

"Little-Sam sounds perfect."

The happiness of the moment ended when Ramsay noticed Robb STark storming up to them.

"I think there is about to be a fight." He alerted.

Sam moved to stand before Gilly and little-Sam.

"Is there something I can help you with, your-"

"Where's Jon?!" Robb growled, causing Sam to gulp.

"I-I am not sure, your Grace." Sam answered, yelping when he slammed against a tent post.

"Leave him alone!" Grenn ordered, he Edd, Pyp, and Satin stopped by Robb's King's Guard.

"WHERE IS HE!" Robb roared.

"Right here, brother."

Jon also had Ghost, Lady Stark, and Brienne of Tarth at this side; remaining calm as Robb stormed up to him.

"I found this in Talisa's chambers this morning!" He hissed, shoving a crumpled note in Jon's face. "The guards says you visited her chambers last night."

"That is because I did." Jon confirmed. "I heard about her skills as a nurse and offered her a chance to become an apprentice to a Skrothian healer."

"YOU SENT HER TO THOSE MONSTERS!" Robb burst.

"I made her an offer." Jon denied. "It was her choice to accept it."

Face filling red, Robb seized Jon by the front of his shirt.

"I could have your head for this!"

"Since when was sending a mistress away a death-worthy crime." Jaime drawled. "Or was that Volantis girl really _that_ good?"

Robb sucked in a breath, and turned to Smalljon.

"Tell Lord Karstark to come here, and to bring Asha Greyjoy with him."

"You will not touch either of them." Lady Stark firmly stated. "The Kingslayer is the only bartering tool we have to get Sansa and Arya back, and Balon Greyjoy could be incensed to attack if he hears that his daughter was killed."

"I am not going to kill the little sea bitch," Robb sneered. "Just make her wish I had."

The threat caused all to drain out of Jon, and he seized his brother's wrist; squeezing until he let go with a painful cry.

"You will not touch her!" Jon ordered. "Feel free to be as mad at me as you wish, but don't put the safety of your people at risk because I bruised your pride!"

"This isn't about pride!" Robb hissed. "You took my wife away from me!"

"That woman was not your wife." Catelyn interjected. "Your true intended is on her way to Oldstone so that you and she may be wed."

Robb froze. "You wrote to Walder Frey?"

His crestfallen look caused Catelyn's heart to squeeze, but she willed herself to remain strong.

"I have not informed him of your transgression, but stressed the importance that you and Roslin join as husband and wife."

"SO YOU HAVE BETRAYED ME AS WELL!"

"Your mother committed no treasons, Robb." Jon insisted. "I was the one who told her to send the letter."

"Get. Out. " Robb grunted. "I banish you from the North and Riverlands from this day forward."

The tightening of fist was the only thing Jon let slip.

"I shall do so, your Grace, but I implore you to wait until after our negotiations are through before I do."

"You have the gall to ask our King to treat with those monsters after what you have just done?" Robbin Flint demanded.

The knight cowered when Jon turned his glowing, blue, eyes on him.

"Unless he wishes to wage war against an army of corpses, yes." He turned back to Robb. "I shall stay out of your sight until after your wedding. I suggest you take that time to remember the lessons of the man who sired us."

Jon knew he hit a sore spot, for Robb as well as himself, but he forced to not let it show until he was alone in Riverrun's godswoods. Jon knelt down and pressed his brow to one of the raised roots.

"...Maester Luwin used to say I should have died from the pox, but I didn't. Thorvald said I should have died from the blood bleeding in my brain, but I didn't. The Council says I should have died from the transformation, but I didn't."

He peered up at the weirwood's face.

"Death has come to me so many times, and yet it refuses to take me; something which I know you must have had a hand in. ...You were saving me to do something, and if keeping the humans and Skrothians from war isn't it then I have no clue what else it could be."

* * *

"Did you leave this in my quiver?" Katla demanded.

The bouquet she held was consisted of pinecones, acorns, wheat stocks, tall grass, and fallen leaves.

"I did."

"Why?"

Ramsay smirked and stood up from the stump. "Because they were the only plants you seemed to like."

"So you have been stalking me." Katla accused, looking at the human with narrowed eyes.

Ramsay shrugged. "You say stalking, I say trying to find out your interest without asking you. How come you like them so much anyway?"-He quired, gesturing to the bouquet.-"Do they not grow where you come from?"

"Frostgate has pine trees...but the other plants grow in regions too far out of our territory."

"We have hundreds of acorn trees near the Dreadfort." Ramsay offered.

Katla rolled her eyes. "Why are your trying to court me, Ramsay? We are not even the same species."

"That doesn't stop me from thinking you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

"I turned one thousand and sixty last week."

"I have always found older woman attractive."

Katla huffed. "How about the chance that I could steal your soul when we mate?"

"Good thing I don't have one to steal." Ramsay grinned,moving closer to the lieutenant. "I'm not asking you to be my wife, Katla, just to have a little fun in the time we have left before we have to go our separate ways."

For a moment Katla was silent, and then she turned to walk towards the forest. Just when Ramsay let out a disappointed tsk she threw over her shoulder."There is a secluded pool a league east of here. You are welcome to take a dip with me."

A mad grin broke across Ramsay's face and he jogged to catch up with his future lover.


	6. What Cold Does

**Disclaimer:** Game Of Thrones is the property of George RR Martin.

 **This fiction is completely finished, new chapters will be added every Sunday.**

Chapter Six

 _What Cold Does_

"Fifty eight men deserted from Harrenhal." Varys informed. "About twenty of them were recapture and, as your Grace ordered, put to the sword...however that did not stop another twenty from fleeing the next day."

"I want their whole families executed." Joffrey snarled. "Their craven bloodline has no place in my kingdom!"

"Well that is one way to decrease the population." Tyrion drawled. "We are already at a need for soldiers without you killing them off."

"The Tyrells have pledged themselves to our cause." Maester Pycelle reminded.

"All because they say their soldiers shall fight does not mean they shall do so." Tyrion contended. "I surely wouldn't with what they are saying about Jon Snow."

Cersei rolled her eyes. "Rumors and tall tales spread by the Northerners to weaken our army's moral."

"Which it is." Tyrion shot back. "People are so convinced of his wrath that they choose to kill themselves whenever they are called to enlist."

"Then what do you suggest we do, imp?" Joffrey scowled. "Give in to these savage's demands?"

Tyrion shrugged. "You have no reason to keep Sansa Stark since you broke her betrothal, and the shock factor of Ned Stark's head wore off days after he was beheaded."

"THEN I SHALL RENEW IT WITH THE HEADS OF HIS SPAWNS!" Joffrey burst.

"Would you stop yelling like that?" Tywin sighed. "It makes you seem childish; although you are right about killing off Ned Stark's sons."

"And how do you plan on doing that?" Tyrion queered.

"By catching them off guard." Tywin replied. "How many pots of wildfire do we have left?"

* * *

"How come I have to go? Is it Northerner custom to invite your enemies to your weddings?"

Jon rolled his eyes and dismounted from his horse. "Like I said the last time we were here: I am not letting you out of my sight."-He held out his arms to her-"Let me help you down, you might tear the dress."

The gown consisted of layers of ice spider silk that started blue black at the bodice, and lightened into an aqua blue at the hem; a belt studded with blue opals cinching it at Asha's waist.

"Is there a reason why you had this dress with you?" She asked warily.

"To show off the Skrothian craftsmanship to any potential trading partners. Now would you come here?"

Sighing Asha held onto Jon's forearms as he lifted her up and out of the saddle; the train of her dress brushing over the stones of the courtyard as she walked in arm with Jon to the sept.

"I'm surprised you were allowed to come." She mentioned as the ascended the steps. "Your brother was still cursing your name when we passed the Oldstones."

"Robb didn't invite me," Jon confessed. "But Lady Roslin insisted I attend."

"I still can not believe that a river troll like Walder Frey could produce such a girl."

Jon shrugged. "With as many children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren he has at least one is bound to be pretty."

Asha giggled, but was forced to stifle the laugh as she and Jon entered the sept; eyes gazing upon them with awe, hatred,and jealousy.

"Over here, Jon." Sam called, sitting in a pew towards the back of the hall with Gilly, Ramsay, and Katla.

The wildling wore a green and red dress that hid the lingering swells of her pregnancy while the Skrothian lieutenant was garbed in a blue sheath with thigh-high leg slits and a back that was covered by intersecting silver chains.

"Something tells me that we would have been seated outside if King Robb had his way." She mused, men letting out audible pants when she crossed a leg over her knee.

Shooting them a dark glare, Ramsay snaked a hand down her waist to grasp a creamy outer thigh; the flesh showing hints of matching finger marks.

"Closer to the door means an easier escape route."

"Why would we need one of those?" Gilly wondered, gently rocking little-Sam in her arms. "Is it common for things to go bad at weddings?"

Sam shook his head. "Ramsay was referring to the fact that weddings of the faith tend to be a bit-"

"Boring," Ramsay snorted. "The last one I went to was so long that I would have stabbed myself in the neck with a candlestick, but I knew it wouldn't kill me fast enough! That is why I worship the old gods. No need for all these songs and prayers, just take a lass before a weirwood, promise to stay with her till one of you croaks, and then go off to fuck the night away."

An woman in the pew beside theirs gasped and covered her daughter's ears.

"Have you no decency?" She sniffed, moving to a different seat.

"Asha, how do weddings in your religion work?" Gilly inquired.

"A mix of the two," Asha replied. "Except instead of a sept, or a tree, the bride and groom stand in the tides to say their vows."

"My people steal the ones they wish to mate. It is more of a symbolic thing nowadays," Katla added at their shocked looks. "But the groom, or bride, would have to hide away from their intended's kin for thirteen days and thirteen nights."

"And if they can't?" Jon asked.

"Then they must wait a whole year before they can try steal their intended again." The Skrothian supplied. "Once they succeed, the families throw a huge party to celebrate the union, that usually last another thirteen days and nights, but have been known to last years if the family has enough means."

"How does one convert to that religion?" Ramsay joked, falling silent when the doors opened and Robb Stark entered with his guard.

He looked every inch a king, but walked stiffly to the altar; sparing a split second to glower at his half-brother out of the corner of his eyes.

"...You did the right thing." Asha whispered. "He knows it too but is too stubborn to admit it."

Jon just took her hand, Asha hesitating before twining their fingers together; a strange chill running up her arms. She rose with him when Roslin Frey entered-the green Skrothian gown Jon had gifted her shining like a silt covered jewel beneath her mother's wedding cloak-and smirked at the shocked look that filled Robb's face when he got a look at his queen to be.

"I hope I am not a disappointment to you, your grace." Roslin softly said.

Robb gave himself a little shake. "You have thoroughly surpassed my expectations, my Lady."

Just as Ramsay had warned the ceremony dragged on for hours, but ended with the Stark and Frey banner men all shouting: "ALL HAIL THE KING AND QUEEN OF THE NORTH!"

The cheer was still threatening to break the roof when the guest flooded from the sept and into the great hall.

"Is the food that bad?" Asha wondered when she saw Jon gag around a piece of roast.

"I have a sharper sense of taste," He explained, spitting the meat into a napkin. "Just picked up on the iron flakes left on the spit...Robb seems to be enjoying it just fine."

At the high table her half-brother was swallowing morsel after morsel his wife fed to him, the two exchanging shy smiles and giddy laughs. However Robb's mirth ended when he caught Jon starring.

"Would you care to dance?" He asked. "I am graceful enough that I won't step on your feet."

Asha thought for a moment before shrugging and taking Jon's hand, the hall quieting a bit as he led her out on the dance floor. Once the Snow started moving to the beat of the movements Asha realized he had been referring to the dancing skills he had as a full blooded human. The Skrothian part of him gave him feet that glided across the floor as if it were covered in ice and arms that twirled and lifted Asha about as if she weighed the same as a goose feather.

"Is something wrong?" Jon wondered when he caught Asha staring at him.

"N-no...I just noticed that you've gotten taller." The first time Asha had met Jon his nose had been level with her eyes, but now he could almost thick her head beneath his chin.

Jon shrugged. "Men of house Stark tend to be tall. Lord Stark always said I would..."

"It's still that raw?"

Jon nodded. "I know you might not think the best of him, but Lord... But my father was a good man; he didn't deserve to die the way he did."-His arms move tighter around Asha's waist.-"Sometimes I wonder how different things could have been if I had went to King's Landing: Could I have saved my father or gotten my sisters back to the North?"

Asha rolled her eyes. "You would most likely be dead or captured, and the Skrothians would have overtaken the wall and be turning everyone beyond it into walking corpses. Marvel over the things you have done, don't waist time agonizing over the things you didn't."

Just the a stray hand bumped into Asha's back, and Jon placed her lips dangerously close to his in an effort to right her. Pale cheeks flushed as red as apples, but his eyes darkened with a fascinated lust that made Asha's breath hitch.

"Jon-"

"Hush.?" He said, grasping her chin between his fingers. The pressure was light, but the ironborn couldn't keep her head from tilting up, nor her body from leaning closer and closer.

"THE CASTLE IS ON FIRE!"

* * *

Jaime Lannister felt a shard of horror stab into his heart as he watched the twins be engulfed by two rings of green fire: One around the keep and the other around the encampment outside. The trapped men and women shrieked over the loud crackling of the flames, their pleas for salvation floating like embers up to the star lit skies.

"Would you like to stay and watch, Ser Jaime?"

The knight stared up at the giant of the man sitting atop the horse at his side; his very soul recoiling at the glee in his face. Lady Stark had called him a monster but that is only because she had been lucky enough not to cross paths with Gregor Clegane. The only reason the Mountain needed to inflict his horrors was the opportunity to do so. Jaime even suspected that the man would have killed him in the past if not for his name!

"My only wish is to return home." Jaime confessed, wheeling his horse around. Just as he was about to leave the burning shore behind he was stopped by a sound akin to cracking ice.

Looking over his shoulder the knight discovered that the sound actually was ice; sheets of crystal freezing the wildfire into giant emerald curls. Before Jaime could even wonder how the reason behind the ice emerged from the smoke with his sword in his, his albino direwolf at his side, and his eyes consumed by a glowing ice blue.

* * *

Varys's face was filled with red as he burst into Littlefinger's office.

"Is there something I can do for you, my Lord?" Inquired the former Master of Coin.

The eunuch held out a hand. "The letter. I know it was you who had it stolen from my chambers!"

"I admit that I did come across a letter when I swung by to pay you a visit." Little finger confessed. "But I thought that you had forgot to send I so thought I was doing you a favor by having it delivered."

"Did you read it?" Varys demanded, his skin startling to pale.

"Of course I didn't, I'm not that rude." He said affronted, but the glint in his eyes told Varys not to relax. "However the handwriting was so sloppy that I had it sent to a scribe to be rewritten, and he was so shocked by what he read that he couldn't stop himself from telling me all about it."

Varys had to grip the edge of Littlefinger's desk to keep himself from falling. "King Joffrey will have your head for this."

"That's saying that I was careless enough to leave a trail that would lead back to me." Baelish mused, pouring himself a bottle of wine. "In which case he would have your head as well since you declined to tell him about the contents of the letter in the first place."

The spymaster looked as if he was either going to faint or knock every tooth of Littlefinger's impish grin out of his mouth!

"Do you have any idea what you have done?"

"Of course I do." Baelish shrugged, taking a sip of wine. "I've just created a very lucrative opportunity."

* * *

Looking out of a window and seeing the Lannister forces beyond the ring of smoke and flame was what caused Jon to snap. The cold that ran through him during his transformation returned, but instead of calming and soothing it stoked the rage building inside him.

 _"They destroyed my brother's dreams of knighthood,"_ He thought. _"They murdered my father under the guise of a traitor to cover their sins, slaughtered a whole region, yet do not have the balls to face us honorably on the battlefield?"_

A part of him noticed how the frightened shrieks dwindled away as the smothering heat filling was replaced by a hardened chill.

"J-Jon?" Asha squeaked.

Jon couldn't answer her, his entire world had become too narrowed.

 _"Kill them all. Make them pay!"_ A voice in his head demanded, it's dark suggestions growing as Jon walked out of the keep to face his enemies.

The Snow only noticed the sheets of ice when one shot up to shield him from an arrow that had been shot at his head. The wall absorbed the bolt and spat it back at the archer, the man following to ground with the shaft buried in his heart. Then-to the horror of his comrades-he rose back up with eyes glowing a vacant ice blue.

[Jon don't!] Katla implored. [Such magic will destroy you!]

Jon didn't care. He would face the gods with a smile on his face as long As he got to soak the ground with lion's blood before he went. With his in mind he started walking towards the men, his ice shielding him from the arrows and firing them back; turning them into wights that immediately turned on their fellow soldiers. Most ran, but a couple attacked Jon head on, thinking his death would put an end to the nightmare they found themselves in. The only real challenge came from a large man who had to be the Mountain.

"What are you?" He asked, bewildered, after seeing Jon impale one of his men on a shard.

"...To be honest, I have no clue myself." Jon shrugged, raising his sword. "But since I am pressed for time, let us just say that I am the one who is going to send you to your rightful place in hell?"

The taunt brought a mindless fury to the Mountain's eyes, and he charged Jon with a beastily roar. Jon stepped out of his way with humorous ease, the human moving at a snail's pace in his eyes. However his swings packed more power, a stray elbow knocking Jon to the ground with blood filling his mouth.

"When I cut off your head," The Mountain gloated. "I'm going to mount it on a spike right next to your Lord-father's, and force your half-sisters to look at it while I split their cunts open!"

Sansa's and Arya's face flashed through Jon's head.

"[You should have kept your mouth shut.]" He growled in both Skrothian and common tongue.

The Mountain had yet to comprehend the trouble he had stepped into when Jon drove _Longclaw_ through both of his kneecaps. When he sunk to the ground the blade cut through his shoulders, severing the arm holding his sword. As the limb fell onto the dirt Jon raised his sword-as if he was going to decapitate the knight- but paused and slid it back into the sheath.

"[A rabid dog like you isn't worthy enough to die by my sword.]" He hissed, seizing the Mountain's head between his hands. "[In the afterlife if you can only recall one thing let it be this: Gold tempts. Fire burns. But cold preserves. Which is why the North shall never forget the atrocities you and your masters have committed.]"

With that Jon started to pull, and pull, and pull until the Mountain's head was torn from his body with a wet pop. Jon held it aloft, watching until the twitches and blinks stopped before tossing it over his shoulders. His wights shuffled forward and gazed at him with empty eyes, waiting for his order to

"Jon?"

The voice cut through the fog surrounding Jon's mind like a knife.

"Arya?"

His little sister hesitated before shuffling to stand before him.

"Y-you look different."

"So do you." Jon noted reaching to touch Arya's ear-short lock until he noticed the blood and gore coating his fingers. And with that he snapped back into himself, the wights dropping to the ground like puppets who have had their strings suddenly cut.

"JON!" Arya shrieked as Jon collapsed as well. "Jon? JON!"

"I'm sorry, Arya." Jon said, vision starting to go black. "I swear I'll never do something like this again. I promise you I won't..."

And with that Jon Snow died.


	7. The Truth

**Disclaimer:** Game Of Thrones is the property of George RR Martin.

 **This fiction is completely finished, new chapters will be added every Sunday.**

Chapter Two

 _The Truth_

"That song is so pretty, where did you learn it from?"

"Your father." His mother replied, carding her fingers through Jon's hair. "I actually cried when I first heard him sing it."

Jon buried his head further into the woman's lap, wanting more of her soothing warmth.

"Did you love him?"

The fingers stopped. "I was grateful that he offered me an escape, but I did not love him the way I should have by the time I had you."

Jon frowned. "So I am a child of passion?"

"You are a child of love." The woman insisted, raising Jon's head to meet her gaze. "From the moment you started growing inside me to the first time I held you in my arms I loved you with every ounce of my being."

Jon opened his mouth, but the words were stopped by a strange pulling sensation. "What is this?!"

"It is time for you to go back, Jon." His mother sighed.

Jon shook his head and clung to her with desperate fingers. "But I just got you. Why would the gods be so cruel to take me away now?!"

Again the woman smiled and laid a kiss on his brow. "It was never your time to join me, Jon. There are still things you have to do."

"But I will see you again?" Jon implored.

"Of course you shall. And I will have your uncles and grandparents here to greet you."

"Father too?"

The women's grey eyes became heavy with sadness.

Jon wanted to ask the look's meaning, but the tug turned into a sharp yank, his eyes snapping open with a strangled gasp; two bodies pouncing on top of him.

"JON!" Arya shrieked, pouncing on him.

[Thank the gods!] Alrik added.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" It took Jon a few, sluggish, seconds to take in his surroundings. "I told you to stay north of the Wall until I got Robb's permission!

"Which he already gave." Thorvald informed, ducking into the chamber with Lady Stark."

"How do you fare, Jon?" She inquired.

"Much better if someone would tell me how I came to be back in Winterfell."

The two shared anook.

[Come, Alfrik - "You too, Lady Arya." Thorvald ordered. "We agreed that Lady Stark would be the one to tell him."

"Tell me what?" Jon asked warily, sitting up from the furrs.

Lady Stark waited until the three had left before she sat down beside Jon.

"Jon, you died back at the Twins." She began. "It was a brief death, but your heart did not beat and your lungs did not pull in air and you fell into a coma throughout the trip back to Winterfell and a week afterwards."

"I was in the afterlife." Jon confessed. "I can't remember what it looked like, or how long I was there, but my mother stayed with me until I came back."-Jon met her eyes.-"She wasn't Ashara Dayne, nor a fisherman's daughter or whore...but you already know that, don't you?"

Lady Stark sighed and pulled two letters from her robes: one water stained and the other dirtied from travel.

"The second is a copy, but the first proves that it is a letter from your father." She explained, tears brimming in her eyes as she handed them to Jon. "I wish you could be the first one to read them, but millions of eyes must have looked at them by the time Robb got them."

"Did you read it?"

"I am sorry to say I did...would you like to be alone to read them?"

Jon shook his head. "I don't need to read them at all. I already know what they say."

He pressed a hand to keep back a sob, but his aunt eased it away.

"You can cry in front of me." She said embracing him. "I don't deserve to shame you after all I put you through."

"You wouldn't have if you knew." Jon whimpered, cold tears dampening the bodice of her dress. "He should have told you, hell, he should have told me!"

Catelyn closed her eyes. "Lyanna made him promise, and Ned always kept his word."

* * *

 _Dear, Jon_

 _Be it the infection in my leg, or the blade of one of Joffrey's assassins, I know I will never live to see you again. The guilt of it weighs heavily on my heart, but not as heavily as the thought of you going through your life never knowing the truth of your mother whom, I am sad to inform, died bringing you into this world. She would not have hated you, for she loved you more than she loved herself which is why she begged me to keep this secret with her last breath._

 _Jon, you are not my son nor a bastard. Your mother was my beloved sister, Lyanna Stark, and your father the late Prince Rhaegar. My sister was so distressed by her impending marriage to Robert Baratheon-whom she doubt would remain faithful to her alone-that she agreed to become Rhaegar's second wife. I am not sure why he did such a thing, but since polygamy was never condemned by law it makes you not a Snow but a Targaryen; Rhaegar's rightful heir by both name and blood._

 _I am sorry that I will not be there to help you cope with the trials you are sure to face once this is discovered, but I beg you not to fall into disrepair. Your mother strength is as apparent as your looks, and the best thing Rhaegar could have given you was the fire that burns through his family's veins as well as this name: Prince Daeron of the House Targaryen._

 _My mind is growing faint, Jon, so I use this clarity to bid you well and let you know that I have, and always shall, love you as one of my children._

"I can't believe I almost kissed a king." Asha said.

"Better than almost being killed by one." The Kingslayer snorted, rubbing the bandage stub on his right hand. He had been struck by a spear of ice as he fled and the resulting frostbite would surely cause him to lose the hand. "How long till we get to Lannisport?"

Asha raised a brow. "What makes you think that I am not bringing you back to Pyke to use as a hostage?"

"Not like I will get you much." Jaime scoffed, gersting to his limb. "I'm surprised you'd flee without even checking to make sure Snow was okay. I thought the two of you were getting close."

"He's too solemn for my taste." Asha tsked. "Although he was very nice to look at."

Jaime gave her a sly smile. "I hope you didn't sleep with him. The boy is supposed to be a maiden, and would be quite wrathful at your betrayal."

"I said I was almost kissed by him, and he's got enough sense to not think that I would fall for him so easily." Asha dismissed, gazing out at the water. "The rest of my crew would have escaped from Moat Cailin by now, we will meet up with at the Flint Cliffs and sail back south."

"That's saying they manage to escape."

"They will." Asha insisted, looking down at the copy of Ned's letter before refolding it and stuffing it back down her shirt. "Don't you think it would be smarter for you to stay away from the main lands? Even if this letter was just the musings of a man gone mad from fever it will still stir the pot quite a bit."

Jaime let out a snort. "The "pot" has been stirring ever since Rhaegar took Lyanna Stark as a wife. The only thing the truth about Jon's blood has done was tipped it…..gods help us all when it finally spills over."

* * *

"In case you are wondering, you may call me granduncle."

Jon hesitated before walking over to embrace Aemon in a hug. The ravens squawked at the cold air swirling from the open doorway, but they were ignored by the two men.

"I will always see you as kin...but I can't say the same for Rhaegar

Maester Aemon rubbed at his brow. "I understand if you do not hold Rhaegar in a good light, Jon, but you can not ignore the fact that he is your father."

"Ned Stark was my father." Jon declared, his eyes growing cold. "He raised me, taught me what it meant to be a man, and sacrificed his honor to keep me safe. Rhaegar Targaryen didn't even live long enough to know if I had been born a boy, or a girl, or even alive at all."

"I am not saying that my great-grandnephew deserves to be called your father. Any man with a working cock can have make a child," Insisted Aemon. "But unless they play an active role in raising them than they have no right to that title."

"Then there is no reason for us to talk about him." Jon decided.

"Yes there is." Aemon said firmly. "Rhaegar is still a part of you, Jon, and pretending that he does not exist will not help heal your new scars."

Jon was about to say he had no scars when he heard the warning bell.

"Stay here, Maester Aemon." Jon ordered, dashing out of the rookery with Ghost on his heels. Outside he found the training yard dusted with snow and filled by men on horseback sporting banners that had a stag's head inside a burning heart.

"Who are you? What is your business here?" The Lord Commander demanded.

"King Stannis of the house Baratheon." One of the men proclaimed. "I have come seeking the Half-Dead Prince, Jon Targaryen."

"Jon Snow is enough." Jon said, stepping forward despite his uncle's protests. "What do you want with me, your grace?"'

For a moment Jon's eyes and ethereal features caused Stannis to pause, but he quickly recovered.

"Your brother has taken Dragonstone and the Stormlands from me. I want you to help me get it back."

Jon frowned. "You must be mistaken, your grace. My brother is still in the Westerlands."

"He does not speak of your cousin," A woman garbed in red corrected. "But your brother, Aegon Targaryen."

* * *

"Why do they call him the Half-Dead Prince?"

"The stories say that he was attacked by a wildling North of the Wall, and was brought back from the dead by the Others." Jon Connington explained. "However the Stranger was willing to return only half of his soul hence the title."

King Aegon shuddered. "Quiet the grim nickname."

"And extremely misleading." Septa Lemore mused, working on her embroidery in the corner of Aegon's new study. "The boy is supposed to posses all of the harsh beauty of the North with hair black as a raven's wing and eyes ringed with the most vivid blue."

"Does he look like my father?"

The Septa shrugged. "People say that the blood of house Stark was greedy when it came to his looks, but that was before Lord Stark's letter. Now our spies say that Prince Rhaegar can be found in his face if you look for it, and under certain lights the grey of his eyes look to be mixed with dark purple rather than black."

Jon Connington scowled. "Faint resemblance does not mean the iron throne belongs to him. True or natural born, Aegon was Prince Rhaegar's first son, and rightful heir."

"Now if only the rest of Westeros would be live that." The Targaryen sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Unlike me, Jon has more than his and his guardian's word as to who he is thus making his claim on the throne stronger."

"But he gave up his right to it when he joined the Night's Watch." Lemore reminded.

"That won't stop those traitors from using him." Jon argued, turning to Aegon. "Already Robb Stark has gotten hundreds of offers from nobles as far as Yi Ti: They are willing to give him whole armies in exchange nge for his cousin's hand."

"Which he would be a fool to accept." Aegon tsked. "Now that he is no longer a bastard Jon is an eligible heir of the North, and if his cousins should die without heirs anyu in laws would have the right to two kingdoms."

"Which is why we can not allow him to remain out of your watch."

Lemore scoffed. "Counting the North, there are seven whole kingdoms between us and Prince Jon, and even if we reach the Wall with our lives we still have the Others to deal with."

"We would have to confront them eventually." Aegon declared, with hard conviction in his voice. "Westeros is mine, and I plan on taking every inch of it back."


	8. Stressed Hospitality

**Disclaimer:** Game Of Thrones is the property of George RR Martin.

 **This fiction is completely finished, new chapters will be added every Sunday.**

 **Sorry about the wait, the document wouldn't upload**

Chapter Eight

 _Stressed Hospitality_

"Lord Brandon, this is her grace Queen Roslin Stark." Brienne announced.

"Tis an honor to meet you, my Lord." Roslin bowed, eyeing Nymeria warily when she saw the way she sniffed at her.

Her time in the wilds of the Riverlands had made Nymeria a lot more feral than her litter mates. She had even snapped at Arya when she had first found her on the banks of the Twins. Her mother had said she was too wild to be retamed, but Arya argued other whys; drawing _Needle_ and threatening to cut off the hand that tried to touch her. However Arya had to admit that the process was a lot harder than she had thought it would be, and she had the scars to prove it. But in a strange way Nymeria's rehabilitation also helped Arya herself settle back into a normal life...well, at least one where she didn't have to worry about being murdered in her sleep.

"The honor is all mine, my Queen." Brandon said. "Feel free to ask for anything you will need to make your stay as comfortable for you and the baby."

A giddy smile spread across Roslin's face, and she placed a hand on the swell of her round stomach.

"How long till my cousin is born?" Rickon asked,his legs swinging beneath the table.

"I have about five more months to go, and I pray every day that it will be a boy."

"It being alive should be enough." Arya muttered, Bran shooting her a warning look. The letter informing them that Robb was ending his pregnant wife to Winterfell had also clued Arya in to her betrothal and she was far from pleased. "Come, Nymeria, let's go hunt down some rabbits."

"Gendry, can you please go with her?" Bran said, knowing that it was best to let his sister go.

"Yes, my Prince." Gendry nodded, keeping a stiff back until he was in the privacy of the godswoods. "Acting like a brat will not change the fact of your betrothal."

Arya scowled and pulled out needle, going through a couple of exercises.

"How would you feel about being married to a Frey."

"Queen Roslin proves that they are not all slimey river trolls." Gendry argued. "And Jon says that Lord Elmar...has potential."

Arya rolled her eyes. "I don't care what Jon says. I won't marry him, and will run away to the lands beyond the Wall of they try to force me."

"And do what?" Gendry challenged. "Freeze into a block of ice?"

"Katla said I'm good enough to become an apprentice of a Skrothian archer." She corrected. "The Skrothians don't like their girls wielding swords, axes, or warhammers, but their archers and spear handlers are almost all female."

Gendry let out a heavy sigh. "I understand how unfair this all is, Lady Arya, but it was what had to be Robb wanted to wed someone else, and do you think that Prince Jon likes being away from you and your brother."

Arya halted in her dance, guilt making her worry her bottom lip.

"It's just...so frustrating. The smallfolk think that highborns can do whatever we want when in actuality we are even more restricted than they are!"

* * *

"Lord Commander, I hope I am not interrupting anything important?"

"We were just going over some renovations, your grace." Jeor replied.

Raising a brow Stannis walked further into the room, Melisandre and Ser Davos following behind him along with four guards.

"What is this supposed to be?" The Onion knight asked, picking up one of the sketches spread across the table. The building was in the shape of a long house, but was made out of clear square panels.

"It's a glass garden." Jon explained. "There are many in the Night's Watch, and the Gift, that refuse to eat the Skrothian crops, but it is too late for them to grow enough food that will last them through the winter. Giving them glass gardens will keep them from starving."

"As well as cost quite a bit of coin." Stannis mused. "Unless the Others are willing to build them."

"The Skrothians have the frames, but they haven't the skills to make the glass panes." Benjen admitted.

"The best glassblowers come from Myr." Melisandre suggested.

"Which is why I was thinking we could buy a couple apprentices and offer them their freedom in exchange for teaching the recruits their craft." Jon said.

Stannis shook his head. "Such things can be dealt with when the war is over."

"I do not mean to seem cruel, your grace, but the Night's Watch area sworn to remain out of such conflicts." Jeor said. "We can give you, and your court, shelter and even escort you to King Robb-"

"The Young Wolf is a traitor who has stolen a piece of my King's realm." Sniffed Lady Melisandre. "To ally ourselves with him would be no better than allying with Joffrey."

Jon's eyes narrowed. "Except my brother doesn't enjoy slaughtering children, or burning innocent people alive to please his gods."

Like true fire and ice, Jon and Melisandre had clashed from the moment they had first met: She repulsed by his Skrothian blood, and he disgusted by the atrocities she has committed in her god's name.

"The Lord of Light has awarded his chosen ten fold for those sacrafice." The Red Woman rebutted. "What has the old gods given the North?"

Jon shrugged. "Nothing much, but Winterfell still sits beneath a Stark banner."

"Jon," The Lord Commander warned. "Do yourself a favor and take these plans to Yarwyck."

"As you wish, Lord Commander." Jon said gathering up the papers, snatching the plan from Ser Davos hand as he walked out of the study. He was storming across the yard when he heard a loud thud of something hitting a wall.

"HOW DARE YOU COMMIT SUCH A BLASPHEMY!"

The plans dropped onto the ground as Jon dashed into a nearby building. Inside he found Queen Selyse looming over her daughter who was curled up against the wall.

"How dare you let those ice demons even touch you!" She shrieked. "I'll whip your back open, you little monstrosity!"

Shireen sighed and Jon stepped in, pushing the woman away with a hard shove.

"How dare you-"

"Queen Selyse." Jon cut, staring down at the woman. "My Lord-father always taught me that only a coward would dare to strike a woman. However if you even _try_ to lay a hand on your daughter again I will give you a pop so hard your ancestors will sit up in their graves and yelp!"

Selyse's jaw dropped. "Y-you can't do such a thing-"

"Would you like a demonstration?" Jon challenged, Ghost letting out a deep growl. Selyse went pale and fled from the room as fast as she could; Jon turning to check on her daughter. "Are you alright, princess?"

Shireen's unscared cheek was colored red from a slap and the intricate braids in her hair had been yanked loose.

"T-Tola didn't mean any harm," She quavered.

Of course Jon's foster mother wouldn't be able to resist playing with Shireen's hair, and her mother was so blinded by ignorance to take it as the most vile of sins.

"Has your mother abused you before?"

Shireen hesitated before nodding. "She never struck me though. Just gave my arms and shoulders a sharp pinch whenever she thought I was out of line."

Jon's heart broke, seeing a younger version of himself in Shireen's sorrow filled gaze.

"She is not going to touch you again." He declared. "If she does, go to your father or to me."

Grateful relief filled Shireen's face. "Thank you, Prince Jon."

Jon returned her smile. "Just Jon would be fine."

After leaving Shireen with Tola-who flushed purple when she saw her cheek-Jon delivered the plans to Yarwyck, and went to the stables to clean Banshee until the Lord Commander to call him.

"I wish you were around when I was growing up." Sam sighed.

"My father would have pissed himself!" Grenn smirked. "But you do realize that you are going to be in big trouble, right?"

Before Jon could reply he heard the rhythmic pounding of drums and marching; followed by a strange trumpeting.

"What in the world?" He muttered, Sam and Grenn following him out of the stables.

* * *

"Why, Theon? JUST TELL ME WHY!" Robb's sword squealed loudly as it struck across Theon's shield. "My father fed you, clothed you, treated you like his own son! Why would you betray him?!"

Theon back stepped for two swings before lunging forward with his axe swinging.

"I was his prisoner! A hint of rebellion from my father and he would have put me to the sword!"

"And you think I would have let him?"

It was the raw pain in the Stark's voice that made him pause, Robb stopping as well.

"Do you know why I sent you to Pyke, Theon? Because I truly believed that our friendship was much too strong for you to betray." He confessed. "I loved you as much I do my blood siblings. I would have died for you!"

Theon actually flinched, his heart hammering as Robb went on: "Before all of this,"-He gestured to the battle raging around them-"I thought that you would have done the same, but considering how quickly you switched to your father's side...you must have hated me and my family all along."

Theon opened his mouth, but before a word could come out his uncle knocked Robb into the sand.

"Good bye, wolfling." Victarion grinned, raising his axe over his head.

Theon cried out, and Grey Wind knocked his uncle to the ground, biting and clawing savagely at his armor in attempt to reach flesh. Victarion managed to throw the direwolf off, but before he could attack Robb again an arrow landed in the beach between them.

"Time to go!" Asha hissed, dragging Theon back to the long boats as the Stark reinforcements charged down the beach.

"I was thisclose to having the wolf's head!" Victarion cursed as they sailed away.

"Father ordered the King captured alive!" His niece barked back. "Do you have any idea how badly you would have messed up our plan?"

"No worse than you ." Victarion scoffed.

As they fought Theon sunk down onto the deck, his confrontation with Robb having drained him

* * *

"I have not treated many cases of frostbite, my Lord, but the ones I did never turned out like this." Maester Creylen confessed.

The hand had the proper appearance of frostbite at first, bloated and black with congealed blood so badly the healer that he would have to amputate it in order to save Jaime's life. But to his surprise the hand started healing, the swelling going down and the black fading away...and took the rest of the color with it. Presently the flesh above the wrist was silver white with nails of light grain veined with blue. Jaime snatched his hand out of Creylen's grasp, and stuffed it back Into his glove.

"It tingles sometimes, but not enough to lop it off."

"But-" The maester was silences by an emerald glare.

"I expect this...affliction to remain between the two of us, maester."

Creylen gulped and nodded, the threat clear in the knight's voice. "J-just make sure you keep it clean."

Jaime snorted and walked out of the study, his nonchalant demeanor dropping as the door clicked shut behind him. The young lion knew that something was horribly wrong with his hand , and that unknowing would have kept him up at night if the war wasn't already doing so.

"Where is the Stark boy?" Jaime asked as he entered the war room.

"Our scouts say that he is assembling his forces at the Golden Tooth." Daven Lannister informed, his yellow hair spilling over his shoulders as he leaned over a map. "The Tullys are massing ships at the Crag, but the ironborn are giving them too much trouble for them to launch a sea attack."

Balon Greyjoy decided that the North was too big a beast for him to tame, and had decided that Riverrun would be a much easier conquest. Although he made no official alliance with their house his ironborn had only been in the mood to hunt trout and direwolves instead of lions.

"Have the Tyrells and Dornish answered our summons?"

"Yes," Genna Lannister tsked. "But since the Dragon King took the Stormlands they fear leaving their borders unguarded."

Daven let out snort. "Backing the wrong side is what they fear. I thought the whole point of giving them two members of our house was so that this would not happen?"

"Joffrey and Myrcella have yet to be wed." Jaime reminded. Myrcella and her groom were too young, and the King had been advised by his betrothed too put off their wedding until after the war in order to preserve the resources. _"As well as that girl's alleged virginity."_

It didn't matter if Margaery's husband was a Stark, Targaryen, or even a Greyjoy; if he had a crown he would have her as his wife.

"Speaking of King's Landing, your twin has asked that you return to the Red Keep."

"Which Cersei knows that I can't do." The roads of both land and sea were filled with foes and hunters who would love to take his head. "Send her a raven,and-"

Just then a servant rushed in with a message.

"This just came in from the Reach." He said, handing Jaime the scroll.

He read it and let out a groan, sinking into his seat.

"What does it say?" Genna asked, concerned.

"Well, the good new is that we now know where Dorne's alliances lie." Jaime sighed. "Tis a shame that it is with Aegon Targaryen."


	9. Blood Of Kings

**Disclaimer:** Game Of Thrones is the property of George RR Martin.

 **This fiction is completely finished, new chapters will be added every Sunday.**

Chapter Nine

 _Blood Of Kings_

Malazza shivered and pulled her fur cloak so tight to her body that she heard the seams pop.

{I swear I am going to rattle my teeth out of my skull!} She muttered, urging her horse to trot faster. She would have forced it into a full on gallop to Castle Black, but she had gotten the misfortune of falling behind a hathay pulled by a dwarf elephant who was sloshing through the inch deep snow. {This prince had better be worth it!}

A few minutes after the curse was muttered Malazza and her party came upon a cleared road that cut through a field of alien crops being tended to buy beautiful snow-colored creatures. Their glowing blue eyes took in Malazza's clothes and weapons and became filled with suspicion; a female even let out a hiss as she ushered two children back into a house. There were about forty of them, made out of ice and ivory wood, clustered before a grouping of stone buildings and towers.

While "Castle" Black was nothing to bat an eye at the Wall caused Malazza's heart to stutter, a thrill of fear running up her spine as she took in its height. Since there were no walls around the stronghold Malazza was able to ride right into the courtyard without interruption; tossing a dark lock over her shoulders as the Westerosi gawked at her and the others. Just like their home the Night's Watch was disappointing: A sea of pinched faces tinged red by the cold with only a handful that looked capable enough to fight.

 _"They don't even have the looks for port slaves."_ Malazza mused. But that was before she got a look at Jon Targaryen. His clothes were dirty, and a few sticks of straws stuck out of his black curls, but his face was too perfect not to belong to royalty!

"Who are you?"

The question was asked by a white haired man with a large raven perched on his shoulder.

"Vyren Maegry." The rider in the hathay announced. "Heir to House Maegry , and emissary of Malaquo Maegyr the ruling Triarch of Volantis."

"I have come to speak with with the Half-Dead Prince." Razdal mo Eraz said. "In regard to his aunt."

At this the Prince's wary look became angry and he stormed off with a large white wolf in tow.

"I could go if you don't want to?" Satin offered.

Jon waved him away, his head immobilized by Tola who was pulling the hair out of his face and into a complicated chain braid.

"Don't fear them, Jon." She said, finishing the braid with a moonstone clip. "Be back soon, Jon. We are having stewed onions tonight."

"I hate onions." Alrik muttered.

"But if you don't eat it then you can't have a slice of the glacier berry pie."

Tola frowned. "I didn't say we were having that."

"But it's my favorite." Jon said with a mock pout, that earned him a playful slap as he walked out of the house. Hobbs had already brought up the food so Jon only had to bring the wine, pausing in the doorway when he saw all of the foreign faces filling the Lord Commander's study. Besides the envoys from Volantis, Braavos, and Yunki there were also merchants from Myr, Lys, and even Yi Ti; the two gossiping to each other behind painted, silk, fans. "Would you and your guest like some wine, Lord Commander?"

"That would be nice, Jon." Jeora said, holding up his cup.

Thanks to his strength Jon was able to carry a pitcher large enough to fill every proffered glass with at least three left to spare.

"What type of brew is this?" Ser Davos asked, eyeing the mauve piqued warily.

"Tis a Skrothian brew, my Lord." Jon informed, filling Lady Malazza's glass. "It has been watered down, a pure drought is strong enough to kill a human, but it is still quite sweet."

As he was drawing away Malazza reached out and grasped his wrist in a firm hold. When Jon had first seen her he had thought she was Lord Razdal's wife, or daughter-she was at least a year younger than Jon-, and he had been shocked to discover that she was a general and part of Yunkia's Wise Masters. Jon would have been impressed by her if not for her absolute lack of humbleness.

"What about you? Does your half blood allow you take a full drought?"' She inquired in a thickly accented voice, twirling a dread about her finger. Her hair was a shade between brown and red with eyes that bordered on black, and stared at Jon with open lust.

Although the face was more appealing, Jon still felt the same sickening sensation he had with Walder Frey.

"I can handle half a cup." He answered, jerking his hand out of Malazza's grasp. He would have left if not for Lord Razadal.

"My Prince you must do something about your aunt." He implored. "She is blood thirsty, feeds her Dragons on the flesh of newborn babies, impales anyone who defies her on spikes to die, takes a different lover every night and bathes in blood of maidens to retain her youth! She is an absolute monster!"

Jon frowned , sensing the enthusiastic tone found in exaggerations and rumors. "As awful as that is, Lord Razadal, like I told King Stannis in regards to Aegon: My vows as a member of the Night's Watch prevent me from getting involved with such conflicts."

"But you destroyed the Lannister forces at the Twins." Lord Vyren recalled. "You turned the Mountain into a solid block of ice!"

"Actually I ripped his head off his shoulders with my bare hands, but that is besides the point." Jon insisted. "All of the fights I participated in during this war was because the enemy attacked me first."

"So you are going to hide in this ice filled wasteland until the Dragon Queen comes to burn you into cinders?!" Razadal scowled.

Jon narrowed his eyes at the man. "Lord Razadal what gavemyou the impression that I had the authority to stop her? I just found out that Daenerys and I were kin, and I don't see how I could order her around even if she does believe I was her nephew."

"It doesn't matter what the Dragon Whore believes," Lady Malazza tsked. "But what her dragons do."

"What do you mean by that, my Lady?" Benjen demanded.

"Only a Targaryen can control dragons," Lord Vyren explained. "Killing Daenerys will bring nothing but disaster if her three dragons are left untamed."

"And you think that I can tame them?"

Malazza shrugged. "You are a Targaryen."

Jon rubbed the bridge of his nose. "My Lords, my Ladies, if those dragons don't turn me into a burnt husk than the Lord Commander will have my head for deserting-"

"Yunkia is willing to offer ten trunks of gold for the boy." Lord Razadal said to Jeor.

It took a moment for Jon to process the man's words, and when he did he slammed the pitcher onto the table; a sheet of ice shooting across the surface.

"[I AM NOT A THING TO BE BROUGHT AND SOLD!]" He roared in "that" voice. "[If you ever make such an implication again I will show that ice can burn just as well as fire!]"

With that he stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut so hard behind him that a couple screws was knocked out of the hinges. Ignoring all questions about his well being Jon stomped into the rookery.

"They won't stop bothering you." Maester Aemon sighed, ushering him into a seat. "The woman will be worse. I get exhausted just remembering how they used to chase me!"

Jon's brows shot into his hairline. "They did?"

"Of course they did! Is it that hard to believe that I was young and handsome?"

"Well yes. But only because you are so wise." Jon added.

Maester Aemon scoffed and wagged a finger. "Wisdom does not come from age, but from making and learning from mistakes. The seven knows I have made plenty of those."

"Was not marrying one of those girls one? They all couldn't have been exhausting."

"They all weren't." Aemo confirmed with a small smile. "The one I fell in love with had a sharp wit to match her pretty face...I'd give anything to feel that sting once more."

Jon frowned. "Why didn't you marry her?"

"Because I loved her. And I loved my brother." Maester Aemon said. "If I had wed my love, and created the sons and daughters I envisioned in my mind, they would be used as pawns in the game to win the iron throne. And you are well aware of how messy that game can get."

"I do." Jon lamented.

"People think that love is about doing anything and everything to remain together when in actuality, in certain cases, the most potent expression would be to be apart." The maester continued. "Humans have been designed in a way to insure our own survival and well being, and to ignore those instincts for the sake of another is what true love is. Everything else is just, just..."

"Strong infatuation with a dash of lust?" Jon offered.

"Exactly. Who told you that?"

Jon let out a long sigh. "Just someone who broke my heart a little."

Things would have gotten a lot worse if not for Shireen's letter. After weeks of negotiating-arguing-Razadal and Malazza returned to Yunkia empty handed. Talisa's brothers and the other delegates stayed to get a look at the Skrothian plants and textiles; the promise of a trading agreement hanging heavy in the air. Since her father had forbid her mother from laying a hand upon her Shireen had started to flourish, and had even started teaching the young Skrothians how to read and write in the common tongue.

[The princess told me to give this to you.] Alrik said one day.

The note was short but was enough to send Jon's heart racing:

 _Lady Melisandre wants to sacrifice either you, Maester Aemon, or the baby._

The "baby" was referring to Eddard "Eddie" Stark, Robb and Roslin's son whose message birth had been delivered just a few days before.

"I understand why she would want to kill you-no offense-but why would the Red Woman want to sacrifice an old man and a newborn baby?" Grenn wondered.

"Because they all have the blood of Kings." Sam explained. "In a book I read those of royal birth have always said to carry immense power in their blood, that can be used in magic and other such rituals."

Jon paled, his hand going up to clutch his pendant. "Lady Brienne said that Lord Renly was killed by so shadow monster, and Stannis's men are always going

on about how powerful Melisandre is."

Pype shook his head. "Stannis may not like your brother, but he would earn the North's wrath if he touched you or his son."

"But what about Maester Aemon?" Satin asked. "With his age it wouldn't be too hard to make it look like a natural passing."

"The Skrothians would protect him."

"And slaughter every single one of Stannis's party to make sure he won't try to harm him again." Jon muttered, eyes going wide as he realized the wars that would follow. He picked up the letter, and heading towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Sam called.

"To the Lord Commander." Jon replied. "It has come apparent that King Stannis and his Red Priestess have overstayed their welcome."

Aegon scowled at the letter and destroyed it in ten, angry, rips "So the ironmen would rather die with the lions then live on the knee before me? As if the Lannisters will keep their promises!"

Oberyn shrugged, crossing a leg over his thigh. "Balon Greyjoy has desired the North as you have desired the Iron Throne."

"A man cannot desire something that already belongs to him." Jon Connington scoffed. "And why would those pirates alley with that House anyway? King's Landing is being filled with refugees and drained of food to feed them, and both the Crownlands and the Reach are blocked from sending them aid."

"But they are holding their own." Harry Strickland informed, entering the room. "Our forces are still chipping at the Boneway, and Robb Stark lost a quarter of his army trying to fight through the Golden Tooth."

"Did he die?" Aegon eagerly inquired. His disdain for the Young Wolf was mostly do to how much Jon loved him. His spies even said that he still addressed him as brother. _"He's your cousin. You're mine by blood!"_

"He was able to retreat to Wayfarer's Rest." Strickland informed. "I doubt that he will try to attack soon now that the Krakens are with the Lions."

Prince Doran leaned forward to stroke his chin. "Where is the iron fleet now?"

"The spies say that Tywin has ordered the to go back North to widdle down Stark's armies with raids along the coast."

"Do you have something in mind, uncle?" Aegon questioned, seeing the gears turning in the man's head."

"Well-"

Just then the door burst opened and a group of twelve soldiers marched inside.

"Who are you?!" Connington demanded, drawing his sword.

From the group step toward a lithe figure who pushed the hood of her cloak off of her silver tresses.

"Queen Daenerys Targaryen. " She smirked. "Tis nice to meet you nephew."


End file.
